


Hidden

by Schattenriss



Series: The Contours of Shadows [13]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A Charming Psychopath, Action/Adventure, Cults, Drama & Romance, Gods and Monsters, Humor, M/M, Qarinus, Tevinter Imperium, catacombs, family visits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-12-31 13:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 121
Words: 282,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12133626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss
Summary: As official consort to Magister Dorian Pavus, Kai Trevelyan is now a permanent resident of Tevinter. But like so many things in  the ancient Imperium, that happiness comes with a price. And as Kai and Dorian discover, whether it be in Minrathous, in unexplored catacombs, or in their own home in Qarinus, beneath the glittering surface, dark and secret things are hidden.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to OnyxDrake9 for exemplary help with the beta!

[ ](https://imgur.com/CcsO6YN)

###  **_The Archon and Alectius_ **

Late morning sunlight streamed in the office's huge, tinted window. It was a feat of magic and artifice, that window. The single pane of glass stretched from floor to ceiling and went nearly the length of the room, which was big enough to house the Archon's great obelisk of a desk and a sitting area besides. Its tint changed with the light, or at the Archon's whim.

Archon Radonis was leaned back comfortably in his chair behind the desk, the more elaborate trappings of his legendary wardrobe unnecessary for this private briefing. His secretary-slash-apprentice Alectius, a slim, dark-haired man in non-descriptly businesslike clothing, was pacing before the desk.

Alectius Sevanus often paced. He was that kind of man.

"…and we've had reports of Qunari nosing around Carastes," Alectius said.

"How many and what constitutes 'nosing around'?"

He consulted one of his many pages of notes. "Small scouting parties. I believe they are merely testing the waters. Seeing if they might use Carastes as an entry point."

"Disabuse them of that notion. Keep at least one alive for questioning."

"You don't wish to observe them?"

"Not this time, Alectius. Carastes is pivotal. Lately they have been counting on our observing them first and taking advantage of that to set up secondary operations. We must demonstrate to them that they are not the only ones capable of changing tactics."

"Understood. Operatives will be despatched."

"Next."

"Sextus Maricius appears to be getting notions that he'd be ideal as the new Archon."

"Does he, now? How vocal are these notions of his?"

"He's got at least a half dozen other magisters listening to him."

"Listening or supporting?"

"Firmly at the listening stage. Maricius isn't clever enough to mount a real opposition."

"But some of those listeners may be in a rebellious mood. I believe it is time to reward Sextus. In recognition for his service to the Empire, we are appointing him overseer of our operations in Nordbotten. A few years in the Anderfels should do him a world of good."

"Indeed. And what of our current overseer?"

"She proved to be surprisingly competent. You may inform her we have decided her talents are more needed in Minrathous now."

"Very good, Archon."

"Next."

"Another magister. Dorian Pavus."

"Pavus…Halward's boy? What's he done now?" The Archon shifted in his chair, leaning forward ever so slightly. This indicated spirited interest if you knew Radonis.

Alectius frowned. "It's seems he's very publicly taken another man as his official consort. Several magisters are demanding it not be allowed. Do you want me to arrange something?"

"Certainly not."

"Archon?"

"Do you know who the other man is?"

He rifled through his notes. "Trevelyan, Kai. Mage. Southerner; Ostwick nobility."

“Alec, Alec, Alec…I am appalled that you’d forget so quickly.”

“A- Archon?” he repeated, eyes darting from his notes to the Archon like frightened rodents.

Radonis stroked his carefully-sculpted beard. “Let me ask you something, Alectius: Why do we have this unspoken stricture against Altus taking up in any permanent capacity with members of the same gender?”

There was a long pause as Alectius desperately tried to second guess what he was supposed to say and finally settled on, “Children?”

“Correct!” The Archon grinned widely as his second visibly deflated in relief. “We are oh-so-dedicated to each of us doing our duty to Tevinter — but primarily to ourselves — by producing new, more powerful mages to continue our lines and our way of life. Are you with me so far?”

Alectius nodded.

“Then understand this: Quite inadvertently, through his sheer stubbornness Dorian Pavus has managed to do his duty to Tevinter admirably.”

Alec wrinkled his nose. “I…don’t follow you, Archon.”

“He may not have gone about it in the conventional way, but Pavus the younger has gone one better. Rather than providing us with a mewling brat that will take years to become useful, he’s brought us a mage easily as talented as any magister with a skill set that’s nothing short of remarkable.”

Alec looked at him blankly. He tried not to flinch as the Archon snapped, “Look at your notes again, man. Are you aware who ‘Trevelyan, Kai’ was?”

“Er-“ Alec scrabbled at his notes and nearly dropped them.

“Stop,” the Archon said. “Set the notes down and listen. You may even learn something about why information and the retention of such is important. Kai Trevelyan was the Inquisitor. You may remember the Inquisition down in the south? It wasn’t that long ago.”

“I remember,” Alec said faintly.

“We put a great deal of time into studying that organization and its top people. You might wish to read our dossier and refresh your memory about what they accomplished in just a few years. For a time it looked like they might be a power to contend with. Then inexplicably, when they were poised to become as much a world power as Ferelden and Orlais, Trevelyan disbanded it. Walked away from it. And here we are, not even two years later, he’s become a resident of Tevinter and de facto husband of one of our magisters.”

“And we’re to allow this because..?”

The Archon sighed. “Must I spell everything out for you? If we keep them happy and content, we can use Trevelyan. The man’s a born leader who has no interest in leading, but a great deal of interest in not following others. He has an uncanny ability to recruit people to his side and get them to happily or at least willingly do what he wants. He’s also shown that given the right circumstances, he will step into the leader role, but he will not become enamoured of it and get grabby. He and Pavus have friends in positions of power who would normally never speak to Tevinter. Used correctly, we can point him at whatever problem we wish and most probably solve it to our advantage. We know a great deal about him: for instance, he deeply resents being seized as a boy and forced into their prison Circles; he’s made no secret of that. He also dislikes their Chantry and is not a believer. He’s loyal to things that he believes in as opposed to things he’s told he should believe in. These are all good things for us.”

“You think he’d work for Tevinter?”

“If Tevinter treats him well and Dorian Pavus asks him to, I guarantee it. So no, you will not arrange anything to placate those who are scandalized by their union. You will instead ensure that no one interferes with them in any way that will cause them harm or make Trevelyan think poorly of Tevinter. Snubs and angry words are to be expected, but I will not tolerate physical or magical attacks. Do I make myself clear?”

“As fine crystal, Archon. Do we have an official stance on it?”

“For the time being, we neither condone nor condemn Magister Pavus’s actions. Let them all wonder.”

“Understood.” He scribbled more notes.

“Next.”


	2. Part 1: Qarinus

**_Homecoming_**  


_Some things just take time to get used to._ Considering all the histrionic tales you hear of Tevinter in the south, you'd think this truism would apply to the cultural differences I encountered once I moved there. Not so. 

I'll get the druffalo in the room out of the way first: Yes, Tevinter has slavery and no, I don't agree with it, but it wasn't an impediment to adapting; more of an unpleasant background hum, like knowing damn well in any southern city you care to name there's an alienage somewhere filled with elves having a significantly less pleasant life than everyone else. That's all I have to say on the subject for the time being. 

I certainly had no difficulty with the ubiquitous casual magic. If anything I found it refreshing to know I could use my natural talent without censure or consequence. That acceptance and utilization of magic also results in many things in Tevinter being superior to the south, from lighting to entertainment. In all the time I travelled to and then lived in Minrathous I felt perfectly comfortable in Tevinter society. If anything, even the general fashion sense was more in line with my own in that black was terrifically popular. 

Contrary to southern lore, there were not blood-magic-wielding magisters sacrificing innocents on every street corner. The people were just like people everywhere else — some wonderful, some terrible and most somewhere in between. I already had some friends in Minrathous from my time working as an outrider for travellers heading from Hasmal to Tevinter, and since I moved in with Dorian, a few magisters had been added to that roster. 

We'd been prepared for some serious nastiness when Dorian declared before the Magisterium that I was his official consort and was to be acknowledged accordingly. There certainly was some, particularly from the old-guard magisters and the faction Dorian was sure had something to do with his father's murder, but all in all people were accepting enough that Dorian admitted to feeling a touch paranoid about it. 

"I mean, not one death threat? No physical or magical attacks that can't be traced to anyone specific? No one digging up enough dirt, true or manufactured, to get me drummed out of the Magisterium or send you packing back south? I'm telling you, amatus, someone is up to something," he said direly. 

"So what if they are?" I said. "The fact that they've gotten the dogs to back off suggests they at least want us alive and healthy. That's not exactly terrible." 

He frowned, fiddling with the tips of his moustache. "Well, yes, but the very fact that the dogs do seem to have been muzzled suggests a rarefied level of power. We may be attracting unwanted attention from very high up the ladder." 

"You knew we'd attract attention. That's why you kept pushing me away for so long. There's nothing to be done about it unless you want to make the rounds of all the magisters that dislike us and ask them why they haven't tried to kill or ruin us." 

"Amatus —" 

"Dorian. Do not tell me again how scary and different Tevinter is. If someone's up to something, we'll find out eventually." I picked up a stack of papers off the sideboard. "If it makes you feel any better, this is the latest batch of cartoons and assorted rude illustrations that have been distributed about us." 

He took them from me and rifled through the stack with a bemused look. "Honestly. They could at least employ better artists. My nose is not that big." 

I wasn't unmindful of the dangers of having someone high up paying attention to us, but Dorian had guaranteed that would happen when he and Maevaris co-founded the Lucerni. My showing up and adding scandal was just icing on the proverbial cake. 

=#= 

When the Magisterium ended its current session, essentially shutting down for the summer, we moved from Minrathous to Dorian's family estate in Qarinus. Overland this would have taken ages, but one can sail across the narrower part of the Nocen Sea around the tip of Seheron and straight through the Ventosus Straits to Qarinus in a matter of days rather than weeks. 

Simple, right? 

In reality, the trip was something of a major undertaking. In addition to all the things people normally bring with them when switching residences, we also had to transport a full-sized eluvian (Full-size — meaning you can ride a horse through it. They're huge. And breakable.) and a very excited nug. I lived in terror the entire trip that Swivet was going to enthuse himself straight overboard. 

On the opposite end of the enthusiasm spectrum was Dorian. It's a testament to how badly he wanted to get to Qarinus together that he agreed to sail at all, given he gets horribly seasick. He tried to mitigate it as much as possible: as a Magister he could and did hire an entire ship just to take us there. The thing had been built with the comfort of its passengers in mind. We had an actual stateroom, our own cook, and a guaranteed swift, reasonably calm voyage helped along by a mage crew member who specialized in weather magic. Even so, Dorian spent most of the trip huddled on the bed in the stateroom. He'd occasionally venture out for short, cautious walks on deck if he was assured the sea was calm, but even then he looked moments away from death. The cook had gone into a fit of mild depression when the Magister refused to drink anything but sips of water and would only nibble safe, bland bits of food. 

I had no such problem, though as I said, I spent most of the time when I wasn't keeping Dorian sympathetic company (he often didn't want company of any sort) monitoring the whereabouts of my nug. Swivet is brown, not the more common pink, which means he blends into areas constructed mostly of unpainted wood, like ships. After going into a panic a few times when it seemed he'd disappeared, I eventually put a tracking spell on him and discovered he liked sitting up near the ship's wheel. Most of the people steering it didn't seem to mind, so I was able to marginally relax when he left my side. 

The ship itself was the most luxurious vessel I'd ever set foot on, but in an odd way I'd enjoyed my trips as a passenger on real, working ships more. I preferred the rough friendliness of their crews to the smooth, distant and slightly condescending professionalism of the luxury boat. I didn't tell Dorian in case he took it wrong; he already accuses me of excessive ruggedness. 

Dorian's mood improved immediately once we reached the port of Qarinus and were able to disembark. 

The harbour at Qarinus is huge. Unsurprising, given that it was nearly picked as the capitol of the Tevinter Imperium before Minrathous won that distinction. It's also relentlessly patrolled, as Qarinus's proximity to Seheron makes it a natural target for the Qunari. 

Our sleek yacht was given a pass into the inner harbour without any hassle; its magical signature matched what the guard had been told to expect, so it wasn't long before we were sliding into our mooring in a spot far from the working section of the port. The area looked to be given over to providing berths to rich peoples' pleasure craft, which meant some effort had been made to make the docks themselves look clean and shiny. Ours wasn't even one of the larger craft; apparently the stories about the ostentation of magisters knowing no bounds was true. 

The smaller sub-harbour we were in had a series of docks that disembarked onto a fairly narrow strip of level land mostly paved with some sort of aggregate rock surface to facilitate the movement of the traps and coaches that pulled up to receive or disgorge their privileged passengers. At one end the road curved gracefully uphill to the level of the city proper. Most of the harbour was surrounded by cliffs, some of them quite high. It was useful from a defensive point of view, but it meant the roads up to the city were mostly steep and usually crowded with traffic. Some goods were delivered to and from the city by an ingenious system of pullied platforms constructed by dwarves and powered by magic that bypassed the roads entirely in favour of going straight up the cliffs. 

Dorian told me buildings that overlooked the harbour were considered prime real estate and priced accordingly. The Archon's Qarinus residence overlooked the harbour, its massive window unmistakable. Rumour had it that the window had been spelled to magnify objects at the Archon's command, so if he wished he could look in on happenings on Seheron itself. It sounded like bollocks to me, but it made for a good story. 

I'd never been to Qarinus before, but we were both eager to get the journey over with so we took the waiting coach directly to the estate. There would be plenty of time to explore later, and Dorian was already lining up places in the city he wanted to introduce to me. 

The first thing that struck me (and I almost mean that literally) when we walked off the ship was the heat. It felt like walking into an aggressively damp furnace, and I couldn't cast a cooling spell fast enough. 

 If that doesn't make sense, I'll explain: One thing that's common in Tevinter that you just don't see in southern Thedas is the use of bound spirits. It's not another form of slavery (since that's the conclusion everyone seems to jump to). These are simple spirits that are usually very good at doing a few specific tasks, and they go at them with a single-minded enthusiasm. Admittedly they're mostly used by the upper classes — that is, mages and those that are wealthy enough to hire a mage to set them up — and the spirits tend to all manner of simple but incredibly useful chores. One of those is temperature control. You simply explain to the spirit when you bind it that you want the temperature within its purview to stay within a certain parameter and it will do that for you. The bigger the place, the more spirits you need, but the principle is the same. The luxury yacht had a spirit for our quarters, and on deck the winds had kept things pleasant, but the port had no such niceties and it was the beginning of a Tevinter summer. 

The other things that struck me were more nostalgic in nature. I hadn't hung around the docks in Ostwick as a boy, but I'd been near them often enough that the smell, the calls of people hailing each other and the ubiquitous cries of seagulls all brought back an indistinct, collectively pleasant and wistful kind of  memory. 

Once in the coach, another spirit provided respite, and we made good time to the estate itself. I'd been worried Dorian's mother might be there (from everything I'd heard, I was in no hurry to meet her), but she'd apparently moved out shortly after Dorian's father died, preferring her townhouses in Qarinus and Minrathous when she wasn't travelling extensively. 

The estate itself was magnificent. It was all one story and designed with an eye towards light and airiness, with a pristine white exterior of graceful lines and many windows (I had no doubt other spirits saw to it that the white remained pristine). The roof was black, the trim of ebony and ironwood. The main house had a bit of an arc to it, with wings extending farther back at both ends and a covered inner courtyard leading to a large outer courtyard in the back at the centre. The outer courtyard let out on gardens to the right, and the vast, landscaped grounds straight ahead and to the left. Dorian told me some of the suites had their own private patios as well, but those weren't evident from the front of the house. 

These days neither wing was used much, Dorian said, as one held more bedrooms and the other was a ballroom. The days when there were enough Pavuses living there to make either wing necessary were long gone. 

The first person to meet us as we climbed out of the coach was a tall, thin man of middle age. He had light brown hair he combed back despite the fact that it was starting to noticeably recede. Mind you, the widow's peak he was developing fit perfectly with the rest of his look. His features were sharp and refined, with bright blue eyes, a straight, pointy nose, thin lips and a narrow, clean-shaven chin. His smile of welcome as he saw Dorian changed to disapproval as I climbed out after him. I suppose the fact that I was holding a squirming nug might have had something to do with that. 

"Dominus Pavus! Welcome home!" He turned the smile back on. "You'll find everything in order for you. Was your journey agreeable?" 

"As agreeable as maritime adventures can be," Dorian said. "Lucien, this is Dominus Kai Trevelyan, my amatus as declared before the Magisterium itself. I wrote you about him. As I said, he's every bit as much the master of this place as I am now." 

"Indeed," Lucien said. "Welcome, Dominus Trevelyan." 

I looked up at him — I'd been crouched down admonishing Swivet to _stay_ — and said, "Thank you, Lucien." I stood as Swivet gave him a cheerfully curious squeak. "You can dispense with Trevelyan. Dominus Kai is fine." 

"As you say." He didn't look impressed. 

"This is Swivet, by the way," I continued, determined not to feel embarrassed at the first impression I was giving him. "He's our pet; please make sure the rest of the staff know that." 

"Certainly, Dominus Kai." He turned his attention back to Dorian. "Was there anything else? I'll see that the staff delivers your belongings to the master bedroom, if you wish." 

Dorian looked nonplussed for a moment, caught off guard by the destination. "Yes, that would be fine, Lucien. There will be a cart coming shortly with a very large mirror. Let us know when it arrives, will you?" 

"I shall alert you the moment it arrives. If you'll excuse me?" At Dorian's nod he turned, pausing to add, "It's good to have you home again." 

The last time I had lived anywhere like Dorian's family estate, I'd been a boy, and I have to admit Dorian's place makes my parents' grounds look rather quaint and provincial. In a way it seemed ridiculous, having that many rooms and that sheer amount of space for the two of us, one nug and the staff to maintain the place. Dorian didn't even live there year-round due to the necessity of attending the Magisterium in Minrathous for a portion of that time. Still, it was enjoyable in a decadent sort of way. 

"I suppose I should give you the grand tour," Dorian said. "Though to be truthful, I haven't lived here for something like twenty years now. I'm expecting a great deal of it to feel like a museum." 

"As long as they didn't amuse themselves adding a labyrinth, I'm sure you'll remember where everything is," I said. 

He gave me a tight little smile. "You jest, but I could see Mother and Father doing just that as a way to better avoid one another." 

Down at my feet, Swivet gave a sad little squeak. I wasn't sure what he wanted but I could make an educated guess. "Could we stop by the kitchen first? I think Swivet's overdue for some water." 

"As am I," Dorian said. He looked down at Swivet. "Are you thirsty? Do you want water?" 

Swivet trilled, sitting up on his hind legs. I'm never sure how much he understands and how much is tone of voice or some other indicator he's reading off us, but he's clever enough I tend to assume he knows what we're saying. 

"You realize this just isn't done, the masters of the house trouping into the kitchen." He smirked as he led us down a long hallway decorated with portraits of long-dead, berobed Pavuses interspersed with what appeared to be paintings of Qarinus throughout the Ages. We turned down a corridor that was much more utilitarian and went through a large swinging door into the kitchen (which was also suitably large).  No one noticed us at first. 

A middle-aged woman with short, dark hair and cook's whites was speaking heatedly to a short, pudgy man who was looking distinctly rebellious. As we drew closer we could hear her saying, "And I'm telling you, Galerius Eliphas, we need turnips. The new master is from the Free Marches and they all eat turnips down there." 

"And I'm telling you turnips don't grow good in these parts and there ent no call for them," Galerius countered. 

"Don't worry about it — the new Master despises turnips," I said. 

Galerius grinned, but the cook looked stricken. "D-dominus Pavus? And Dominus -um-" 

"Dominus Kai is fine outside of formal occasions," I said. 

"Good day," Dorian said. "As you can see, we've arrived, and just in time to save the household from being subjected to the horror that is turnips. We're sorry to intrude, but we've a desperate need for a bowl of water." 

"Of course, Dominus, I'll get one of the girls to– did you say a bowl?" 

"For our nug." He gestured at Swivet, who was trying to hide behind me. He gets oddly shy at times. 

I'll give the woman credit—she didn't so much as blink. "Anything for yourselves?"  She reached into her pocket, fiddling with something for a moment. 

"Just water will do for now. We will be wanting drinks and a light meal shortly. I think we'll take it on the back patio." 

"As you say." A young woman came hurriedly through another set of doors that presumably led to either the dining room or pantries. I assumed whatever the cook had fiddled with had been something spelled to alert staff they were needed. A flurry of instructions followed and in a few more moments Swivet had his bowl of water which he started lapping immediately. 

In addition to telling her our alcoholic preferences and approving her ideas for the meal, Dorian mentioned that from now on nug was not to figure in the menu. 

"Thank you for that," I said as we left the kitchen, Swivet trotting beside us. 

"I couldn't in all good conscience look Swivet in his beady little eyes while eating one of his relatives." 

Dorian took me through the big main house and seeing it, I agreed — much of it did resemble a museum more than a home. 

"Was it always like this?" I asked. 

"I'm afraid so.  Mother and Father had no interest in spending time together and really only used a few favourite areas of the house.  Once in a while they'd entertain, but for the most part the Pavus Family Museum sat in stately silence." 

I didn't say anything, but thought again that I did get the better childhood. At least my parents genuinely liked each other. 

We reached a doorway where Dorian announced, "And these were my rooms." He swung open the door, took a few steps in and stopped. I followed him, but rather than seeing remnants of his childhood I saw a mostly empty room with a non-descript bed and dresser and not much else. 

"Not that you could tell," he finished softly. "It appears they found a better use for them." 

Hating the hurt in his voice, I put a hand on his back and moved closer to him. "Hey, remember what Lucien said. He's putting our things in the master bedroom. Maybe that's where everything is." 

"Maybe." He didn't sound convinced. "The last time I was here was for Father's funeral. I suppose Mother had every right to make changes." 

"Let's have a look first, shall we?" I smiled and slipped my arm around his waist. He let me guide him out. "You'll have to lead the way. I don't have the slightest idea where we are." 

He summoned up a ghost of a smile. "You always have had questionable navigation skills." 

"Which is why we met in the first place." 

"Touché. Let's see if your theory is correct, then." 

He led me deeper into the house. 

"I take it they didn't share the master bedroom?" I ventured. 

"No. Having produced me, there was no further need," Dorian confirmed. "Father used the official master bedroom. Mother had a suite of rooms on the north side where she could get the sun all day. Of course, she then proceeded to keep the curtains closed the majority of the time." 

We reached the door to the master bedroom and Dorian opened it. Again he took a few steps inside and stopped, and again I moved close to him. The master bedroom actually consisted of a large furnished anteroom leading to an equally large bedchamber. Swivet busied himself sniffing every bit of the area as Dorian looked at me with a bemused smile. 

"You were right. These are all my things. I mean, _all_ my things. I had no idea they'd kept so much." 

"Just because they couldn't stand each other doesn't mean they felt the same way about you. Even if they did find you difficult and incomprehensible." 

"You say the sweetest things," he said with a wry smile. "We'll have to make room for your things as well." 

"First I'll need to get some," I said philosophically. 

"I will take you to the best places in Qarinus to acquire bric-a-brac," he said, slowly making a circuit of the room as he inspected its contents. "Feel free to look around. It's your place too, you know." 

"It'll take some time to wrap my mind around that." 

I started my own circuit of the rooms. My belongings had been neatly stacked in the bedroom next to a large, dark wooden curio cabinet.  I wondered if it was Dorian's or a family thing, and perhaps fittingly, it made me curious. 

Rather than ask Dorian, I opened it. The cabinet was backed with a mirror and lined with shelves. And on those shelves…I couldn't help but grin. The cabinet was filled from top to bottom with every possible thing anyone could have made with a skulls-and-skeletons motif. There were crystal skulls. There were plaster skulls. There were wax skulls with wicks. There was even a white rock with skull-like features drawn on it. There were skull kerchiefs, socks embroidered with little skulls, a bone with a picture of skulls carved into it, an incredibly tacky goblet that looked like it had been made with a real human skull, a lovingly constructed miniature human skeleton…holding a skull. A skull belt buckle and buttons. A skull door knocker (the lower jaw was hinged). A glass skull candy dish. A skeleton dressed in purple mage robes, holding a staff whose top was –you guessed it—a skull. There were a few pieces that looked like they might do something more than just sit there, but I couldn't guess what. 

"This is marvellous," I called out to him. "Why didn't you tell me how deep your devotion to your school of magic goes?" 

"What are you on about?" He entered the bedroom and stopped (if you'll pardon the pun) dead. His eyes widened as he looked at the cabinet. For just a moment he looked annoyed, then quickly settled on resignedly amused. He stood next to me, shaking his head as his eyes raked over the collection. 

" _This_ , amatus, is what happens in a proud Altus family whose relatives are mostly distant. From the year I announced my specialization, every relative and family friend we possessed apparently heaved a collective sigh of relief because they now knew what to get me for every conceivable occasion that involved gifts. Mother had the case made for me. It was in Minrathous, but when we decided to close Father's apartment I had it shipped here. I had no idea they'd installed it in the master bedroom." 

"What's this one do?" I pointed at a little articulated one that had the sort of jolly look on its face one normally associates with children's toys. 

"It walks and then sits down. It's cute, I suppose, but it only takes it a few steps then becomes exhausted and goes straight to sitting." 

"And this?" 

He rolled his eyes. "Please don't press the button on it. When you do it sings a rousing chorus of that famous standard _These Bones Ache for Your Magic Touch_." 

"You're telling me that's a real song?" 

"A real song from a musical comedy that was all the rage in Minrathous around the middle of Blessed for some incomprehensible reason. It was a mawkishly sentimental romance called _Albie's Nevarran Rose_ , about an Altus mage who, despite his widower father's determination to match him with a suitable Altus girl, secretly marries a Nevarran necromancer whose widower father is equally determined that _she_ marry a suitable Nevarran. Much hilarity ensues." 

"That was all the rage?" I said skeptically. 

"The critics despised it but the public loved it. It played for several years. Revivals still pop up now and then." 

"A facet of the proud history of Tevinter you somehow failed to mention before. What's this one? It feels more magical than the others." 

"Ah, this one is at least clever!" Dorian removed the skull from the cabinet and set it on the nearest dresser. He placed a coin in front of it. The jaws opened and a snake slithered out, took the coin in its mouth and dropped it through one of the eye sockets. It clinked as it hit bottom, the snake slid back in the mouth and the jaws closed. 

I grinned. "That's brilliant." 

"You're welcome to keep it out if you like," he said, smiling himself. 

"I will. This is wonderful on another level too." 

"Oh? What's that?" 

I smirked. "Now I'll always know what to get you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to JayRain for sharing Dorian's curio cabinet!


	3. Settling In

I mentioned it was summer. I'd experienced a few months of summer previously in Minrathous, but when I was there I was mostly indoors where bound spirits saw to it that the temperature was constant and pleasant, and only went out later during the evening. On the rare occasions when I had to go out earlier, the buildings of Minrathous in which we spent most of our time had their own spirits tending to climate control, so real weather was an inconvenience that meant having to cast a cooling spell for the few minutes it took to dash through it. That was in the city. 

Summer in Qarinus was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Its location on the coast means the air is naturally humid, something I'd been used to growing up in Ostwick. What I wasn't ready for was the heat. Simply put, the climate is much warmer (something Dorian frequently pointed out when we were living in the south), and when you combine summer heat with the humidity…well, some things you just have to get used to. I was having difficulty doing so, and spent a great deal of every day hiding in the temperature-controlled house. When I did venture outside, I had low-level cooling spells running almost constantly just to cope. Problem was, they weren't proof against the humidity, so I spent a great deal of time feeling vaguely sticky and maker! when I let the cooling spells lapse… Dorian found it all terribly amusing.

I’d found an avocation to keep myself occupied in the house: About a fortnight after we’d arrived, we turned one of the rooms into a workroom for me. Not for spellcasting and magical crafting — the entire basement was dedicated to that along with a marvelous library — this one was purely for my newfound enthusiasm for magically enhancing handheld crossbows. Much as I like them, they don't pack a lot of punch, but I had been playing about with ways to strengthen and improve them. Dorian had declared as long as I was playing with those things in the magical workroom when he was in there, he existed in a constant state of fear that I was going to slip and fire a bolt into him. In self-defense he had set up a separate space for me. After that, despite Lucien's evident disapproval, we’d set up a firing range as well. 

As a mage I wasn’t supposed to care about such non-magical pursuits, but there’s something about the little weapons that satisfies me in a way spellcasting can’t. I almost never use a staff anymore, preferring to keep my crossbow at hand instead. I figure it actually gives me an advantage in combat situations — no one expects a mage to nail them with a crossbow bolt, and no one expects a guy with a crossbow to nail them with a fireball to the face. It didn't take long for the workshop to become a place I could frequently be found, especially if Dorian was otherwise occupied.

=#=

"Dominus Kai?" Lucien approached me with a look of vague disapproval (or maybe it was just me; I'd always gotten the feeling he didn't approve of me). He was carrying a large envelope.

"What is it, Lucien?" I set down the little crossbow I'd been restringing.

"A courier just delivered this for you. It appears to be from your Chantry."

I took the envelope, biting back the urge to say "it's not _my_ Chantry", and thanked him. Deciding I could use a break, I carried it with me to the smaller back living room, sat sideways on the couch so I could put my feet up and opened it. "Oh, for fuck's sake, it's been over a bloody year," I muttered as I read. 

It was the Chantry, all right. Specifically, the most humourless, evil denizens of the Grand Cathedral — their accounting department. They were still finding items to quibble about on my itemized list of expenses from the mission I'd undertaken for Cassandra. You'd think given Cassandra is the bloody Divine Victoria and the mission was for her benefit, they'd just accept my report and cough up the money, but I assure you, you'd be wrong. Those people would argue about an expense report from Andraste herself.

Irritably, I cast the spell that would call a servant. 

_Lord Trevelyan, once again we must take issue with your designation of one Quintus of Minrathous as a legitimate information broker. Our agents have found no evidence of this man being granted a license of any sort, nor have they been able to locate him. Please provide sufficient information for our records, or we will be unable to process this portion of your claim._

The servant appeared and I requested a beer. While I waited, I continued to wade through the legalese masking their attempt to avoid paying me anything.

_Subsequent to our previous communication, it has been brought to our attention that at the time of the activities you are making claim for, you were in point of fact engaged in an ongoing romantic relationship with a citizen of Tevinter residing in Minrathous. While we appreciate that you did not attempt to claim for lodgings during your time in Minrathous, this does call into question a number of your other claims. Specifically: 1. On 18 Justinian (Tevene - Ferventus), 44 Dragon: Three (3) meals at the Crow's Nest Restaurant. Please provide evidence that this pertained to the Divine Victoria's mission. 2. On 23 Justinian (Tevene - Ferventus), 44 Dragon: Two (2)_

Clamping down on the urge to simply incinerate the bloody thing, I looked up as I heard footsteps, expecting it to be a servant with my beer. Instead, it was Dorian. He stopped short and stared at me, a goofy grin spreading across his face. "You're wearing _shorts_."

I set the letter down. "Yes, and?"

"In all the years we've been together I have never seen you wear shorts."

"We never lived in Qarinus before. It's hot here in a way it never gets hot down south."

"True enough. Glorious, isn't it?” 

“Hah. No wonder Mae called you a hothouse flower. It's…a wetter, hotter kind of hot than I'm used to; I end up feeling all sticky. I finally decided to admit defeat and dress for the climate.”

“I approve.” He smiled broadly. “Um- just one thing, amatus."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What?"

"Do have a care if you go out in the sunlight. Your legs might blind the servants."

I rolled my eyes. "Ha-ha, very funny. Just for that, I should make you read this shite." A servant wove past Dorian and handed me my beer. I thanked him and goosed the drink with a little extra cooling as Dorian picked up the letter.

"Seriously, again?" I moved my legs over so he could sit down. "This is turning into some sort of dark comedy, amatus.” 

“Tell me about it. I'd love to know how they got this to me so quickly; we haven’t even been here a full month.”

“Hmm. If they were here, everyone would say blood magic. Since they're supposedly above all that, perhaps long-term arrangements with some of the more intelligent fade demons?” He skimmed the letter's contents, winced and handed it back. “You know, it's been over a year; since you don't actually need the money, maybe you should just give up."

"Never. I am not going to allow the Chantry to win. Cheap wankers. If they want a war, I'll give them one."

Dorian grinned. "I doubt Varric will want to document this one. Why don't you just ask Cassandra to fix it for you?"

"I did that eight months ago. The accountants are evil and all-powerful; they turned her down flat. Apparently finance doesn't fall within the Divine's jurisdiction."

He shook his head, still smiling. "Well, good luck with that. Just glancing at these is enough to give me a headache. I was going to ask if you'd like to go into town, but if you'd rather carry on your war…"

"It's a war of slow attrition; I'll get back to it later. Was there something you wanted to do?"

He shrugged. "I thought we might figure that out once we got there."

"Sounds like a wonderful idea. Just let me go get some clothes on."

"Yes, you'd best. Otherwise I can see the news circulars: _Qarinus City Stuck by Mysterious Pockets of Blindness; Experts Baffled_."

"Arse." I tossed the letter on the table. A night in Qarinus with Dorian held much more appeal than thinking about the damned thing. I sometimes wondered how long the Chantry accountants would be haunting me.


	4. Compulsion 1 - Kai

While I was adapting to the heat, a spectre from our old Inquisition days was finally put to rest. 

I suppose a few moments of explanation are in order if for no other reason than I'm still pissed off. There was once an elven god named Fen'Harel, also known as The Dread Wolf. For reasons I'm about to tell you, I'd very much like to have been the one who removed the 'r' from Dread. 

Long, long ago there was no Veil, and the physical world and magical worlds were one. At that time there were no humans or Qunari in the land (I'm not sure about dwarves). The elves, perfect and immortal, ruled all. 

Did I say perfect? Alas, I misspoke. Turns out the immortal, ethereal Elvhen could be just as incredibly amoral, vicious twats as we mere mortals. A group of them managed to take over, and in time called themselves gods. If the tales are at all accurate, these so-called gods were mostly a load of self-absorbed bastards. Those under them followed their fine example, enslaving each other and doing all manner of other unsavoury things to the point where it got out of hand and the end of their world was imminent. 

Fen'Harel determined to put an end to their corrupt reign after they killed his dear friend and fellow god, Mythal, who really did seem to be a decent sort as gods go. So our trickster god (for of course he was a trickster god) managed to banish his former colleagues to somewhere beyond space and time by creating the Veil, which separates the physical and magical realms. This caused the fall of the elves, as their infrastructures and way of life and immortal existence all came crashing down with the sudden removal of their power source. 

And Fenny celebrated by going to sleep for a thousand years or more. 

Well. Lucky us, he woke up. And the Damned Wolf looked upon this new land he'd helped create and decided he didn't much like it. Like every other miserable old prat, he concluded things were better the way they'd been when he was young. _Un_ like other miserable old prats, he had the power to do something about it. 

A number of things happened as he tried to set things up so the Veil would be removed and his rose-tinted world of memory would return (mind you, our world would have to be destroyed in the process, which was fine with him because he didn't really regard its millions of inhabitants as real people anyway). 

One of the things that happened resulted in one fuck of an accident, and rather than tear open the Veil, the magic his proxy was using ended up embedded in my hand. This was good in that it ruined his plan, but it proceeded to complicate my life, initially in some very good ways, but ultimately things turned ugly. 

Very long story short, he pretended to be a friendly apostate elf named Solas and joined the group of us that thought all we needed to do was stop a mad, ancient magister-priest from destroying the world _his_ way. 

We did, and "Solas" disappeared as the magic orb he'd been after was destroyed in the final battle. A few years went by, the magic in my hand started eating me alive, and at the end Fenny showed in time to tell me who he was, what he was planning to do and — oh, yeah — he took my left forearm because after leaving his damned magic mark there for years it was killing me. Then he fucked off to go destroy our world. 

Naturally we weren't going to sit back and allow that (and I really wanted to kick his skinny, arrogant ass for leaving me to suffer like that, then cavalierly announcing he was going to wipe us all out because _he_ wasn't happy enough). 

Problem was, I'd acquired a geas that compelled me to serve Mythal (who, you might remember, was Fenny's special friend and not as dead as he'd let on). We didn't know if she'd want me to support Fenny, but we couldn't take the chance. So I was out. I had to stay away from the planning and the execution of the counterattack completely. 

As the ancient elf had set his main base up in Tevinter, Dorian was deeply involved and couldn't tell me squat about what they were doing. I knew they'd found someone to take the fight to Fenny, but that's all I knew. I couldn't even meet them for fear I might be ordered to kill them. 

We did win, and I couldn't be more proud of Dorian for his part in that. 

From what I understand, the Dread Wolf was banished somewhere beyond space and time just like he'd done to his enemies before. I'm rather in the dark as to how they did it or who did what. Some people are saying Mythal returned and banished him herself, dying again in the process. Others say, no, it was our agent who banished him. Dorian wasn't there for the end, so he's as much in the dark as I am. I supposed we'll just have to wait until someone who saw everything manages to sort it all out and write it down for the rest of us. The main thing is, the Veil is intact, Fenny is somewhere a long way away if he's alive, and won't be back anytime soon, and our world is still here until the next mad old bastard decides to try to destroy it. 

My only regret is I wasn't there to punch the son of a bitch in the head a few dozen times—preferably with my prosthetic left fist because it was his fault I have it, and it doesn't bruise. 

I was also relieved our fears that Mythal would activate my geas and command me to fight for Fen'Harel never came to pass. However, I wasn't quite finished with the fallout of my decision to take on that onus. 

_=#=_

It happened on a typical summer day — in other words, staggeringly hot — about a month after we moved in. I had by that time surrendered to the weather to the point of wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt, but my skin hadn't quite decided whether it was going to burn or tan and was doing a bit of both, so I was camped out in the shady part of the back courtyard with another cooling spell keeping me comfortable.  Dorian was lounging on a patio chair right out in the middle of all that sunlight, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and drinking some sort of fizzy iced thing. He looked utterly content. If I'd parked myself in the sun like that, my skin would have immediately opted for _burn_ , never mind all the careful tending I'd done to get it not to. 

I'd been not thinking much of anything except _how can he possibly enjoy lying there like that_ when out of nowhere came the urgent thought that I had to go to the reflecting pool. Which made no sense, because I wasn't aware we had a reflecting pool. The compulsion was insistent and growing moreso. I stood up and said, "Dorian?" I must have sounded as strange as I felt, because he looked at me and sat up abruptly. 

"What is it, amatus?"

"Do we have a reflecting pool?"

He squinted at me. "A reflecting pool? Why?"

" _Do_ we?"

"Well…loosely speaking, yes. But it's just sat empty for years."

"I need to go there."

Now he stood too. "Whyever for?" 

"I don't know. I just know I have to. Now. This is coming from outside me. Where is it?"

"I'll show you." I fell in beside him as he set out for a portion of the grounds I didn't remember ever visiting. "Is this a compulsion?"

I nodded. "What's that line? 'Resistance is futile'?"

"Venhedis. You know what it likely is."

"Mm hm. Let's just hope she's in a good mood."

"Fen'Harel said she was dead."

"He's already proven more than once he doesn't know everything. Were you trying to build an obstacle course here or something?" The entire area we were navigating seemed to consist of deadfall, broken fencing, old gardening implements and discarded household items. Dorian, weaving his way through the wreckage gracefully, led me to what looked like the remains of an old summer house. 

"It has become something of a dumping ground over the years," he admitted. "I used to come here on occasion when I was a boy; at the time it seemed very remote and mysterious. Now if I remember correctly…just squeeze through here — mind that bit sticking out there, it's sharp — ah, _there_ it is!"

We entered a mostly clear area, in the centre of which was a rectangular, tiled depression perhaps four inches deep, six feet across and about twice that long surrounded by a flagstone deck. It was grubby but surprisingly intact and free of debris. I stopped in front of it, the compulsion abruptly gone. 

"Well, we're here," Dorian said, "what now?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. The compulsion's gone but…" I had to stop talking as I felt a sensation almost like vertigo, accompanied by a sense that there was a crowd of people shouting at one another just out of earshot. " _Venhedis._ Dorian, I feel very fucking strange…"


	5. Compulsion 2 - Dorian

~~

Hello everyone! Dorian here — if you've read this far I'm sure I don't need to write a formal introduction — to elucidate and entertain with elegant élan. 

_Dorian. I said you could take this next part. I said nothing about excessive alliteration._

But I _am_ writing this part. You have your style, I have mine. Please refrain from backseat authoring. 

_I can't believe I let you relegate me to italics._

Some time in italics will do you good. Italics will teach you humility. Now if you don't mind, I shall make my invaluable contribution to this magnum opus of yours. 

_I should have my head examined for agreeing to this._

Later, amatus. I shall painstakingly examine everything else as well. Now as I was saying, to elucidate: 

Kai has agreed I should write this section because he was essentially insensible to much of what ensued. 

_You're still alliterating._

Barely. Now, hush. 

__________________________ 

" _Venhedis._ Dorian, I feel very fucking strange…" Kai turned even paler than he normally is, which is saying something. 

_Dorian, if you're not going to take this seriously-_

Sorry, I couldn't resist. I'm finding my voice. And I do take this seriously; it was actually rather terrifying. 

_All right. But I assure you everyone knows just how fair my skin is. And don't you dare break into bad love poetry now._

Would I do that? (Well, yes, there's a very good chance I would.)  But I will get serious now, because I'm the only one who saw what happened. 

As I said, Kai went pale, stepped to the edge of the empty pool and dropped to his knees, slumping forward to support himself on his hands, like a child pretending to be a dog or a horse. I said his name and crouched next to him. He was shaking and breathing heavily and seemed to be in pain, but when I reached out to him he said, "Get back," voice rough and urgent, "something's happening."

"Amatus," I began (I no longer remember what I was going to say). He turned to look me in the eyes and I swore out loud. His eyes — normally a deep, rich grey ringed with near-black I've never seen in anyone else — were an odd shade of amber I _had_ seen elsewhere, in the eyes of the shapeshifting mage Morrigan…whose mother was the apparently not-so-dead god Mythal. 

"Please back up," he growled, "I don't want you to get hurt."

I stood and backed cautiously away, readying a variety of spells in my mind in case one was needed and feeling useless. Kai screamed hoarsely and — there's no elegant way to put this — like someone had breached a dam, water started _pouring_ from him, erupting from every pore and running in a steady stream into the reflecting pool. 

Much as it pained me to just stand there watching Kai endure the phenomenon, there was nothing I could do. It was bizarre, unsettling, and I was fairly confident I knew what was happening. Some years ago when we were all in the Inquisition ( _and no one lived anywhere else,_ my mind wants to add), we went to an ancient elven temple that the corrupted demigod Corypheus had been trying to reach. There was a thing there he wanted called the Well of Sorrows. Of course, it wasn't a literal well, nor was it the large pool of shallow water it appeared to be. It was, in fact, the collected essences of a veritable cavalcade of high priests of Mythal that were all so ancient they made the Tevinter Imperium look like a recent invention. 

Long story short, Corypheus wanted it, we needed it, and despite my objections and Morrigan's eager willingness to do so, my amatus took it upon himself to 'drink' the thing and receive its knowledge and its geas. It helped us all of twice — once to bind a dragon to fight for our side against Corypheus's dragon, once to speak nicely to a cadre of ancient elven guardian spirits so they wouldn't attack us — and since then Kai's been walking around with it (them?) in him. They haven't helped with so much as one tiny thing in years, and he's had the spectre of compulsory service to Mythal hanging over him. I love the man dearly, but sometimes… 

You see, he told everyone it was because as leader of the Inquisition, he felt it was his responsibility to take the risk. There's some truth to that, but only some. The real reason he drank the damned thing is Morrigan pissed him off. She was certainly over-eager in an avaricious manner and I fully admit she was being _magier than thou_ in a way that made one want to outmagic her in the most humiliating way possible, but even I would not have consumed that alien thing in a fit of pique, which is precisely what he did. 

He does admit it was a mistake, but there was no taking it back and we've been left guessing for years what the consequences would be. This, it appeared, was one of them. 

What was happening before me was like watching when he 'drank' the Well of Sorrows, but more terrible. The air was thick and rotten with old magic and Kai was screaming but I couldn't get near him. All I could do was ready healing spells and hope I wouldn't need to use them. It seemed to go on forever. 

Finally the water stopped flowing from him. Kai threw up the last of it in the conventional way and collapsed on the ground, curled on his right side in a loose fetal position. 

Unlike when he'd ingested the damned thing in the first place, he didn't get up. Ignoring whatever was going on with the pool, I bolted over to him, a litany of _don'tbedeaddon'tbedeaddon'tbedead_ playing in my mind. His clothes were soaked and he was out cold, but he was breathing. I cast a healing spell on him anyway (like Kai, healing is not my forte, but I imagined anything might help).  His skin was damp but warm, and his pulse was strong. I checked his eyes and they were back to their normal deep grey. More relieved than I can put into words, I sat down next to him on the grubby paving stone that skirted the reflecting pool (an unappreciated legacy of some past Pavus with architectural ambitions) and finally turned my attention to whatever was going on there. 

The 'water' was swirling widdershins, gaining speed as I watched, and I could feel the magic building. I readied a few barrier spells just in case (I didn't want to take the chance of trying to move Kai quite yet), but didn't cast. The magic felt constructive, not combative, and the death spirits that were never far away from me were evincing no interest at all. 

The liquid in the reflecting pool began gathering in on itself, rising from the centre as it did. Next to me, Kai groaned softly. I rubbed his back to let him know I was there and watched as the liquid began to shape itself from a tall cylinder to humanoid to woman. I could feel how the old magic was working and wished there was some way to study or at least document it. 

It — she — turned and moved a few careful steps towards me. The water was swirling interestingly within the confines of her shape, and her mien kept subtly shifting: one moment she looked like an old woman, then a mature elf, then an adolescent human girl, then another elf. I considered it a great pity there had been no small fish in the pool that could now swim amusingly inside her. 

She turned eyes that held a hint of amber on me. _For once I could honestly say her eyes were limpid pools and not be accused of hyperbole_ , I thought. 

(I'll have you know Kai just laughed at that.) 

_(I did.)_

I nodded politely to her but didn't stand. "Mythal, I presume?"

She nodded once and spoke. "Correct, boy." Her lips moved but her voice didn't issue from them (I'd rather been hoping for bubbles). It seemed instead to be delivered directly to my mind, with an odd layering effect as though several women at once had been instructed to say the same thing. 

"I fear I'm distinctly underdressed for such a momentous meeting."

She laughed (you'll note I refrained from describing it as bubbly). "As am I. Under the circumstances, I forgive you."

"Would you be offended if I asked you what just happened? Is Kai free of the Well of Sorrows now? Is he all right?" 

She'd been working on her face while I spoke, and I could now see identifiable expressions. She looked amused. "Would I be offended? Such manners! Your amatus is fine. He should snap out of it shortly. Purging the Well was a fairly traumatic thing for his body and mind to undergo. You may find him to be a bit unfocused and easily tired the next few days."

I frowned. "How did you know I call him that?"

She laughed again. "He's had a piece of me inside him since he ingested the Well."

I thought about that and didn't like the idea that some ancient elven god had had front row seats to literally everything we'd done for the past several years. It must have shown on my face because she _tsk_ 'd at me. 

"Oh, don't worry. As I said, it was just a piece. It wasn't breathlessly watching everything you did."

"Whyever not? _I_ certainly would," I said. 

"To answer your question, one might more accurately say the Well is finally free of _him_ ," she continued, callously ignoring my quip. "As you can imagine, it was not pleased to find itself residing in a human, even if he is a mage." 

"No, they weren't," I agreed. "We had to construct a barrier in Kai's mind to keep the chatter down, and they were more than happy to help with that." I didn't add, _Not that they helped with anything else_ , though it was true. 

"Really? A barrier? Impressive — that takes a great deal of skill." It was hard to tell subtle expressions, but I think she looked ever-so-slightly surprised. "The important thing is he admirably kept the Well and myself hidden until it was time for us to return."

"Fen'Harel said you were dead."

"As Kai said, Fen'Harel has been known to be wrong. He's a dear man, but he sometimes makes decisions that are incredibly wrong-headed then sticks by them out of some cockeyed sense that he's the only one who understands the need." She half-smiled. "You might call it the lone wolf syndrome."

I snorted. "Yes, it's a real howl. He packs so much into everything he does."

"Don't start with me, boy," she warned, but still seemed more amused than anything. 

"May I ask you something else?"

She shrugged. "Ask away. I give no guarantees that I'll answer."

"The being that I'm speaking to — is it — are you a piece of Mythal, or are you Mythal?"

"Now, that would be telling," she said with a throaty laugh. "For your purposes, I am Mythal. Let's leave it at that."

"So what happens now?"

"Now?" she raised a watery eyebrow. "We go our separate ways.  Kai is no longer host to the Well, so you may go back to your lives."

"What about the geas?"

"Ah, _that_ he still has. I couldn't remove it even if I felt like it before he performs at least one service for me. There are _rules._ " Her smile was decidedly less pleasant this time. 

"I won't let you take him." I knew it was foolhardy saying that, but I have been known to do madcap, daring and even dangerous things on occasion. 

"You wouldn't have any say in the matter," she said sharply then smiled again. "But don't worry; far be it from me to tear asunder this tale of true love. I have no intention of taking him. The world is more interesting with him right where he is. Not to mention he also has good manners. Good manners are important and these days fewer and fewer people seem to recognize that."

"It's always manners that go first, followed by an appreciation for piquant conversation and canapé trays that make an artistic statement beyond _here are squares of meat and cheese on a small stick_ ," I said agreeably. 

"Quite." She didn't walk so much as glide to the edge of the now-empty pool. "I'll even promise you this, despite those wolf puns: the service I demand will not compel him to kill or harm himself or you, or leave you. Happier now?"

"Yes, _much_ happier. Thank you." The relief I felt might have demanded I sit lest my legs give out on me, were I not already seated. We rarely discussed it, but both of us were painfully aware that the geas could force Kai to do anything she demanded, up to and including killing me or himself. I didn't think letting Mythal know just how happy I was to hear that would be wise. 

She inclined her head graciously. I felt the old magic building again as the liquid she was comprised of began to swirl and change shape. Though her head was twisting and elongating, taking on the texture of small, even scales, her words were still perfectly clear. "Now, delightful as this conversation has been, I must be going. Tell Kai I've enjoyed living inside his mind these last few years. I'll be in touch." Transformation complete, she now looked like a glittering dragon with quicksilver scales. Giving me a toothy smile, she launched herself into the air. I still can't be sure if she flew away with great speed or dissipated into vapour. Either way I'd love to know how she did it. 

Beside me, Kai groaned and sat up slowly. 

"Welcome back," I said, "How do you feel?"

(I now return you to your regularly scheduled narrator. You know, I quite enjoyed this. There may be other points in this narrative that could benefit from my perspective.) 

_(We'll see.)_

~~


	6. Compulsion 3 - Kai

"Welcome back," Dorian said. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got run over by a herd of druffalo, at least one of which stomped on my head. What happened? Why am I _wet_?"

Dorian stood and helped me to my feet. I felt wobbly and incredibly _drained_. "You remember the Well of Sorrows? It decided it had had quite enough of living in you and rather forcefully vacated, as did a piece of Mythal you have apparently had in you since you drank that bloody thing."

"You mean my clothes are soaked with the Well?" I felt like I could only concentrate on one thing at a time. 

"Yes, that's pure essence of ancient elf dripping off the tail of your shirt."

I made a face. "Well, that's appetizing. What's this about Mythal?"

"I spoke to her. It seems you've been carrying a piece of her around in you along with your friends from the Well. She used the Well to make herself a body and flew away just before you woke up."

I puzzled through that, my mind feeling uncomfortably fuzzy. "But that means when I talked to her _after_ I drank the Well, she was also in me? Gah. And the Well's gone?"

"It all came out of you in a veritable deluge. One of the more unsettling things I've seen lately."

"It wasn't much fun to feel either. I wasn't sure what was happening, but it felt like getting torn to pieces from the inside. Wait. _In_ me? You mean she was riding around in me watching everything?"

"She says not, but who knows? Shall we head back to more civilized realms?" 

I nodded and regretted it as the movement made me feel slightly nauseous. "My clothes feel all clammy." I wrung some of the water — or whatever it was — out of my shirt. 

"You could take them off," Dorian suggested. 

"So this was all a ploy to get me naked?"

"Merely an opportunity that happily presented itself."

"And I'll be happy to oblige you later. Right now I just feel drained and like I need to sit, not to mention I honestly do have a headache." 

"Poor thing. Tell me if this helps; I already cast one on you." He cast a healing spell and it did seem to help a bit with the headache. 

We picked our way back through the maze of junk surrounding the pool and summer house. Dorian had to help steady me on a few of the trickier manoeuvres as I felt wobbly and shaky and altogether uncoordinated every time I tried something more ambitious than a careful walk. We took the walk back to the house slowly. 

"So is that how one gains immortality?" I mused, "Just leave little packages of yourself all over the place?"

"I think people have done jail time for that."

"Hm. I believe that's more when one leaves little packages of _other_ people all over the place." We reached the courtyard and I pulled my chair over by Dorian's. I might get sunburned, but at that moment I felt chilled through; undoubtedly a side effect of the Well's abrupt and traumatic departure. "What about the geas? Is that gone too?"

He waved a servant over and requested more drinks before answering. "That, she wouldn't take back. She said there are rules and you haven't fulfilled them yet."

"Naturally." I sighed. 

"At least you're shut of the Well. For what it's worth, she did promise whatever she has you do won't involve any injury or death to you or me. She also said she enjoyed her time in your mind."

"And that was supposed to make me feel better?"

" _I_ feel better knowing neither the Well nor she are in you anymore. I'm also going to insist you not volunteer to do anything like that again. Next time you may not get off so easily. And since we are an official Couple these days, you have to consider my feelings on those sorts of decisions." He took the new fizzy drink the servant offered; I took a beer and nodded my thanks. 

"I promise I will never drink another collective of ancient elves, even if they ask me nicely," I said solemnly. 


	7. Interlude (1)

On the grounds of the Pavus estate, all was silence save the occasional rustlings of small animals in the more distant reaches. Everything was well-manicured, everything was in its place, and the only disorder was of the carefully sculpted sort. Except for one corner where — for reasons Dorian couldn't say because in his experience it had always been that way — the true chaos of abandonment reigned. The gardeners sometimes ventured in to ensure no wildlife had set up housekeeping or rid themselves of broken tools and rotten branches, and the household staff occasionally made a surreptitious trip out to discard equally unwanted household items, but most of the time the area remained undisturbed. 

The old summer house had once been white, but years of neglect and the elements had turned it ghostly grey, with patches of washed-out brown where wood showed through the paint. The roof had mostly fallen in, except for the end closest to the reflecting pool, with its latticework and the big sleeping porch. The furniture was still where it had been set so very long ago, though for generations only the occasional family of rodents had availed themselves of it. Debris and dust from storms and the gradual decay of the house littered its floors, the only disturbance in many years being the trail Dorian and Kai had blazed to reach the reflecting pool. 

The moonlight was tenuous in the centre, the surrounding detritus blocking all but a few timid shafts from making their way into the old, empty reflecting pool. If anyone ever thought to visit the place, they might have remarked how unusual it was that the shallow pool stayed clear of debris. Kai had noticed, but been distracted by more urgent concerns before he could devote any thought to it. Now he was up in the big house, asleep next to Dorian, and no thought of the pool entered his mind. 

No one saw that the pool was a tiny bit less empty than it had been for those long years. Not even the moonbeams reached the dark depression just a bit east of the centre where a small puddle — not even a puddle, really, it was so small — of liquid had settled. It had trickled to the ground off Kai's clothing after Mythal had shaped the Well of Sorrows to her own uses and flown away. Slowly, quietly it had flowed down a crack and into the pool, coming to rest in the small, dark depression. It held no essence of the ancient elven priests; they had all gone with Mythal. Neither was it truly water. It didn't think, not really, but in its unthinking way it felt comfortable in the small, dark depression. And in its own, unthinking way, the reflecting pool welcomed it. 

The moonlight moved on. No rustlings ever came from this corner of the estate. There was just the slightly-less-empty reflecting pool and its abandoned guardians, always and ever alone. 


	8. Old Friends and Other Distractions

I'd recovered quickly from the Well of Sorrows and Mythal's abrupt exit from my body. It may have just been in my mind, but I could swear I felt…lighter. Like I'd been carrying a weight about with me everywhere, but hadn't been aware of it until it was no longer there. 

The weather had cooled enough that I'd felt comfortable going back to my usual trousers (in case you're wondering why, the answer is boots. I _like_ wearing boots, but they look silly with shorts), and so far I'd been successfully convincing my skin to tan rather than burn. It was shaping up to be a relaxing summer; a prospect we were both enjoying after everything that had gone on the past few years. We'd been discussing possible places to travel, since there were great swaths of Tevinter I'd still never seen.

It was mid-afternoon, and as Dorian was busy with some project he had going with Marius, one of the Lucerni faction he and Maevaris Tilani headed in the Magisterium, I'd gone into my workroom to fool with my own projects. At the moment I was experimenting with wood — I'll wait a moment for those who think that way to snigger at the double entendre. Specifically, I was looking to see if different sorts of wood commonly used to construct the mini-crossbows I like would also channel magic effectively. My goal was to be able to use the weapon itself to channel my spells — much like a mage's staff does — rather than having to take the time to imbue individual bolts with whatever magical enhancement I desired. It was time-consuming work and much of it was rather dull, but I was getting results, so whenever I had a few hours I'd go back to it. 

Swivet had wandered in to watch me, but when it became clear I wasn't going to do anything interesting like drop food or provide him with toys, he'd wandered off again. He'd become quite enamoured of the garden area by the back courtyard and spent a great deal of time there. The head gardener lived in a state of constant angst, convinced that Swivet was doing something in there even though he'd never caught our nug at anything he could object to.

I looked up at the discreet knock on the door frame. Lucien was standing there, looking even more annoyed with me than usual. 

"Dominus Kai? If you have a moment?" At my nod he walked the rest of the way into the room, hauling someone with him. "This… _elf_ says he knows you."

The elf was a bit shorter than me. He had spiky, dark red hair, warm brown eyes and a long scar on his left cheek. His name was Camren, and I knew him from my brief career as an outrider.

I grinned. "I know him well. You can let him go, Lucien. He's a friend."

"If you say so, milord," Lucien said, managing to make the southern appellation sound vaguely distasteful. He released the elf. "I'll leave you to get reacquainted."

"Told you he knows me, you stodgy arse!" Cam shouted after him then grinned at me. "Hey, Kai!"

"Hey yourself. It's good to see you, Cam. How did you know to find me here? For that matter, what are you _doing_ here? There’s no way this place was en route for you."

“It was a bloody slog, but I’ve got a good reason,” he said.

I stood, setting the little crossbow aside. "Actually, before you tell me, let's go somewhere more pleasant. Would you like anything? Something to drink?"

He followed me out of the workroom saying, "Point me to the privy, then I wouldn't turn my nose up at a beer if that's not too common for these posh digs of yours."

I assured him it wasn't and gave him directions to both the facilities and the back courtyard once he was done. 

He met me there shortly, making a great show of looking over the premises. "I always knew you were rich, but this takes the biscuit," he said grinning. "You really live here?"

"I really do," I said. "It's Dorian's family's estate." 

"Hunh. You actually do shite in all these rooms? Or are they just there so you can run about when you get bored going _look at all the rooms I've got_?"

I thought about that. "Well…the staff live in some of them. And I suspect the family may have been larger in the past. If I'm to be honest, I think you're right — most of them serve no real purpose at all. It's just something everyone does when they have money. Then you buy things to put in the rooms so you don't have loads of empty rooms."

"So that's how it goes." Cam smirked. "Then you throw piles of fancy-arsed parties so everyone can see what a stonking great house you live in, but you don't let them into all the other rooms with your posh room-filling stuff because they're not important enough to see it, right?"

I laughed. "More right than you know. But how did you know to find me here? I only gave you our address in Minrathous."

"Mikal in Hasmal. She was there when I went looking for you, but she didn't tell me how bloody far Qarinus is from everything or how to find this bloody estate. Then when I finally made it here, I couldn't remember your last name or Dorian's, and did you know there's more than one magister that lives around Qarinus?"

"Sorry about that. If I'd any idea you were coming I would have given you directions."

"'s all right," Cam said around a swallow of beer, "I figured it out. Between your first names and your description, people knew who I was talking about. Just glad you didn't decide to grow your hair out and start wearing colours in the last year."

"Perish the thought." 

"Amatus? Are you out there?" Dorian's voice came through the open doors. I answered affirmative and moments later he came through them too, saying, "Lucien is all in a lather — something about you taking in strays?"

"Just one." I gestured at Cam. "Dorian, meet my friend Cam. Cam, this is Dorian."

"Delighted," Dorian said as he pulled up a chair next to me. "You're the one from the trip with the Qunari, right? Had that little incident at the crossroads?"

Cam rolled his eyes. "That's me. Of course it couldn’t be the stories about what a brilliant rogue and ladies’ man I am that you remember.”

“I was talking to Kai in the midst of it happening. That sort of thing sticks in one’s mind.”

"And unless there's another Dorian, that would make you the magister Kai's mad about."

Dorian gave me a rather satisfied smile. "Guilty as charged. So what brings you here? Not that we wouldn't be pleased if you'd just come to visit."

"After looking about I feel like I should ask if you have a spare wing I could move into, but I actually have a reason I slogged my way across half of Tevinter to find you."

"What is it?" I asked.

He took another drink, expression turning grim. "Fadik's missing. I think something bad's happened and finding her could be tricksy, if not bloody dangerous. I was hoping I might be able to talk you into helping me."

Fadik is a Qunari Tal-Vashoth mercenary and Cam's business partner; I'd done a run from Hasmal to Tevinter with them about a year ago, transporting a Qunari prisoner, and we'd all become friends along the way. Not the kind that write cheery monthly letters and have little get-togethers, but we were fond of each other. “Missing? For how long and what happened?”

“Long enough that she didn't just go off for a bit of a holiday with mates.”

“Is it possible she found a new paramour she didn't tell you about?” Dorian asked.

Cam shook his head emphatically. “Fadik? Not in a million years. She doesn't do paramours. Or single mours or _any_ mours.”

I smiled. “Fadik tolerates people's obsession with mashing each other's erogenous zones together, but she personally finds it off-putting.”

“Ah, I see.” Under the table, Dorian traced a finger up my thigh and settled his hand there. “I withdraw the question, then.”

“Where did this happen?” I asked.

“At the Grand Tourney. She wanted to go this year 'cause she missed the last few. I didn't mind — there's booze and wenches and a shiteload of things going on, so why not? The first few days were brilliant, then something must've happened, 'cause she started acting all strange and growly. I tried to find out why, but she wouldn't say shite. Couple days of that went by, then _boom!_ all of a sudden, she's gone.”

“Was she planning on staying for the whole thing?”

“Yeah, she'd paid for our rooms and everything. You _know_ she wouldn't leave early if she paid for a room. I looked bloody everywhere for her about fifty times. No way was she just somewhere I didn't notice.”

Dorian's hand drifted along my thigh again, applying pressure and a very small jolt of electricity where he knew I'd react. I shot him a look and he raised an eyebrow at me. “There was no note or anything?”

“Sweet eff-ay. And she left her sword in her room. She _never_ leaves her sword.” He finished his beer and set it down with a _clunk_. “Any chance of another one of these?”

“Of course. We'll get someone to bring you one.”

“Ta.” He grinned at us. “I'm gonna make some room, then. Back in two shakes.”

Dorian took advantage of Cam's sudden absence to slide his hand from the top of my thigh to explore nearby areas, casting tiny sensation-enhancing spells as he did so. I narrowed my eyes at him. “You're being evil. We have a guest.”

“And yet you’re not stopping me,” he said, continuing his exploration. “I would if you told me to, you know.”

“I know. I didn’t say I wasn’t interested, I just said we have a guest, therefore your timing is unfortunate.” I shifted in my seat. It didn’t help much, but I have to admit a perverse part of me was enjoying it. 

“I was looking for you to suggest something tawdry before your friend showed up.”

“How tawdry?”

“Un _speak_ ably.”

“Beast.”

He made claws, scratched down my inner thigh and growled softly. Tendrils of heat followed the course of his nails courtesy of another small spell.

“Dorian. You are making it very uncomfortable to sit here,” I complained.

“Good. That _was_ my fiendishly clever plan,” he purred. “Of course, if you'd rather we just sit here and chat…”

“Oh, no you don't,” I said, giving him a stern glare. “You started this. You find a way to distract him long enough.”

He grinned. “Challenge accepted.”

When Cam returned, Dorian had Lucien waiting to one side. “You know, Cam, it occurred to us that you must have been travelling for some time, and — you are going to stay at least a day or two, aren't you?”

“I was hoping that might be okay with you. Is it?”

“Of course. If you'd like to wash the road dirt off and settle in, Lucien here can show you to your room. He'll bring you that drink to have while you're getting organized.”

“Guess I am a little ripe, aren't I?” Cam grinned. “Right, sounds brilliant.” 

“Lucien, see that a bath is drawn for Messere Cam, would you?” Dorian said smoothly, nixing any possibility that our guest might just tidy up quickly at a wash basin.

Cam's eyebrows flew up. “You wouldn't happen to have any lovely lady masseuses on duty too, would you?”

“We're fresh out at the moment,” Lucien said drily. I rather enjoyed seeing him disapprove of someone else for once.

Cam shrugged, completely unfazed. “You can't blame a chap for trying. Um…where should I meet you when I'm done? I might need a guide to find you.”

“Right here's fine,” I said. “Just take your time; there's no rush. We've got all night to discuss what to do about Fadik.”

As we watched Lucien lead Cam away, I said, “Well done.”

“I am a most gracious host,” Dorian said with a self-satisfied smile.

“And a beast,” I added.

“That too. Shall we?”

“Damn right we shall.”


	9. Missing Persons Report

When we returned to the courtyard, Cam was already there. He was seated cross-legged on the floor, rolling a ball to Swivet, who was smacking it back to him with a great deal of enthusiasm. 

He looked up at us with a grin. 

"Wotcha! This _is_ your pet nug, right? I'm not just entertaining some random one that wandered in from your garden?"

"That's Swivet," I said. 

Swivet gave me a friendly trill on hearing his name then clicked bossily at Cam. "You know if you let him, he'll keep you doing that until _he's_ bored of it." 

"Like it or not, we're stopping as soon as my arse gets tired of sitting on this floor," Cam said. "I gotta say, I half thought you were having me on when you told me you had a pet nug." 

"Whyever would someone make that up?" Dorian asked as he dropped bonelessly into his chair. 

"You'd be amazed what people'll lie about for no bloody reason. All right, Swivet, my arse has had enough." Cam stood and stretched, then took his own seat. "Lucien said I should tell you dinner will be served shortly. Do you always have to eat when he says?"

"No, but the cook's much happier when the kitchen's been given a schedule of some sort, and given that cooks are temperamental creatures, meals tend to be around the same time," Dorian said. 

"Fair enough. Do you have to eat when they decide, or do they have to cook what you decide? I need to know these things for when I get my own bloody great house with a staff."

"It's a bit of both generally. They know what sorts of things we like and plan the menus accordingly." 

"What happens if they make something you don't like?"

"Ah, then things can get ugly."

Swivet trotted over and dropped his ball at my feet with a hopeful squeak. I cast a small force spell to send it across the patio and watched him intercept and bat it back at me. This time I made it zigzag and got a happy trill for my efforts. 

"I dunno whether you're being bloody lazy or bloody brilliant," Cam said as I made the ball seem to try to elude our nug. 

"He likes it when you make it run about like a small, scared animal. They forgot to tell him nugs aren't by nature a predatory species," Dorian said, watching through half-closed eyes. His hair was still rather mussed, but I wasn't going to tell him because it looked good. 

"Considering the only other animal he knows is a cat, is it really so surprising?" I let Swivet catch the ball. He gave it a sound thrashing before bapping it back to me to start the game again. 

"Next you'll be suggesting we should get a cat."

"I fail to see how that's a logical progression, but now that you mention it…"

"I had a cat once; it was just a stray that wandered onto the grounds," Dorian said, his voice sounding lazily half-asleep. "We got on famously; it followed me everywhere. Then Mother found out and that was the end of that."

"Allergic?" I asked. 

Dorian snorted. "Only to the thought that it might shed on something of hers. It wasn't enough to tell me to keep it outside, either. She spelled the house to repel cats."

"Seriously?" I let Swivet catch the ball again. He showed it he was the boss of it and abandoned it to flop contentedly onto the small carpet we'd put on the patio for him. "That's one of the more obnoxious misuses of magic I've heard lately."

"Mother was known to be vindictive now and then. The fun part was trying to guess what would set her off. She once went on a rage-fueled vendetta against one of the more prominent glass houses in Minrathous because she thought the stemware she'd ordered from them was oddly tinted."

"The house isn't still spelled, is it?"

"Oh, no, she lost interest long ago. This is merely the first time I've been in a position to think about something as novel as acquiring a pet; that does suggest a degree of stability, after all."

"What would Lucien think? If we do, you'd better tell him. He doesn't approve of me."

He squinted at me. "Amatus, you've developed an unhealthy complex about the poor man. Never once has he professed disapproval of you."

"Well, of course he wouldn't to _you_ ," I complained. 

There was a strangled snicker from Cam. I raised my eyebrows at him. 

"Sorry," he said with a grin, "just this is another thing no one back home would bloody believe."

I looked over at Dorian, who shrugged. "What thing is that?"

"It's like this," Cam said, dropping his voice dramatically, "I travelled into the deepest heart of the Tevinter Imperium, at great risk to life, limb and sanity. Everywhere I went there was the danger of slavers, of blood mages, and yet I pushed on, knowing if I didn't my dear friend Fadik might die. Finally I made it to the ancient city of Qarinus, but what I sought wasn't in the city proper. I went to dark places, talked to darker people until I learned the location of my ultimate goal, a place no good-hearted Fereldan lad had any business going. Though it could spell my death, or maybe even worse, I made that final journey, alone and on foot, to breach the poshly appointed sanctum of the most dangerous and corrupt creature in all of Tevinter — an actual Magister. As the sun started to set, I approached and knocked on the great, heavy wooden door. It swung open and I beheld…"

He reverted to his normal speaking voice, "A skinny butler chap with a stick up his arse who wasn't at all happy that one of his bosses was an old mate of mine. Then I met the Magister, who got rid of me right quick so he and my old mate could go off for a shag. After that I saw powerful magic being used to entertain a nug, and they had a very scary conversation about whether or not they should get a cat. You really think anyone'd buy that after all the horror stories they've been told?"

"I'm terribly sorry, I suppose no one told you we don't do the ritual sacrifices and blood orgies 'til Thursday," Dorian said with doe-eyed sincerity. 

"And for all you know, we're talking about acquiring a very scary cat. You knew we were getting rid of you?" I said. 

Cam rolled his eyes at me. "Please. I didn't fall off the turnip cart yesterday. I've gotten rid of a few people myself. _No rush, take your time!_ my Aunt Fanny."

I sighed. "I keep forgetting behind that innocent exterior lies a debauched libertine."

Cam's eyebrows drew together. "A debauched what?"

Explanations were forestalled by Lucien announcing dinner. Afterwards we retired to the smaller back living room where we grilled Cam for anything he could remember concerning Fadik's disappearance. There wasn't much more than he'd already told us — a couple of good days, followed by a few where she was acting moody and closed-mouthed, then gone. She may have argued with someone, possibly another Qunari, but Cam hadn't been paying attention to who she was hanging around with. He did take all her things with him when he left; they were currently stored at his place in Wildervale. 

" _Wildervale_? Why in the world do you have a place in Wildervale?" I demanded. "There's nothing there but woods and some sort of lake."

"Well, that's the point, yeah? There's fuck-all there, so it's a brilliant place to store my stuff and get some sleep between runs. 'Sides, it's right in the middle of the Marches, so it's a good base," Cam said. 

"I suppose this means we're going to need to go to this Wildervale to look through her things," Dorian said. 

Cam blinked at him. "You're coming? I mean, you'll do it?"

He shrugged. "We _were_ talking about travelling somewhere this summer. Not that Wildervale would have been my first choice, but perhaps we're just what Wildervale needs."

Cam grinned widely. "This is grand. Wildervale won't know what to make of you lot. It's not like we'd have to spend loads of time there anyways."

We talked a bit more about logistics then dropped the subject for the rest of the evening. Cam turned out to be just as entertaining a guest as he'd been when we'd travelled together, with a wealth of outlandish stories of his adventures as a rogue, thief and mercenary, which Dorian and I naturally needed to match with stories from our time in the Inquisition. We ended up drinking and playing cards far longer than we'd intended; the sun was coming up by the time we turned in. As Dorian observed, at least this trip wasn't likely to be dull. 

"I'm surprised you volunteered to go so quickly," I said. 

He sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots. "I think the Inquisition damaged me."

"Damaged you?"

"Yes. Ever since then I occasionally find myself getting the urge to go out into the world to do something adventurous and possibly even altruistic. It's most unsettling."

"Very un-Magisterial of you," I agreed. "I assume you don't want that bandied about in polite company."

"Certainly not," he said, his voice momentarily indistinct as he pulled off his shirt. "We shall have to let it be known that we're holidaying somewhere suitably exotic and decadent."

"What counts as exotic and decadent in Tevinter? And will we be able to lie convincingly if anyone asks?"

He grinned. "Don't worry, amatus, in my dissolute youth I visited them all."


	10. Interlude (2)

Three paces. Every direction: left, right, across. All three paces. A perfect box. Ceiling not even a handsbreadth above. No matter. Dwelling on that is neither constructive nor useful. One and a half paces: stand in the centre. Now, slowly… If one comes in, do this. Execute the moves in perfect sequence, but at half the speed. Now halve that again. Let the body memorize every nuance. Next: if two come in, do this. Build in variance: blunt weapons versus sharp. What if they have a mage? More problematic; run through variants on the location of the magic-caster. 

Say what you will about the Qun, one thing they taught admirably was discipline. Her mage friend Kai once joked that the Qunari probably have an instruction book on approved exercises when being held prisoner. It's not a joke. Regular exercise is essential. In this situation, so is economy of movement. Remember to close eyes if the door opens; after this darkness, any light will be dazzling. Footsteps here, strike there. Focus past the boredom and fear, practice and repeat. Prepare and wait. When it is time, act without hesitation. If one comes in… 


	11. Interlude (3)

False dawn spread languidly over the grounds until it reached that overgrown, abandoned area, where it seemed to hesitate. In the near darkness she ran, heart pounding a staccato glissando of fear. She neared that dark place, and in her panic, ran straight in, dodging obstacles as she imagined she could hear the beating of huge, dark wings overhead. Hope rose in her that her pursuer might not be able to reach her in the confused jumble she was weaving her way through. 

She dashed through an opening, hope giving her a little extra boost of speed, then stopped dead in her tracks, terror gripping her at the sight of the vast, open plaza in front of her. Her heart sank, and in her confusion it didn't occur to her to return to the jumble from which she'd just emerged. Panic was insisting she go _forward._ She could see the flat, unforgiving stone dropped off not far ahead. If she could make it back into the shadows before the false dawn crept into this ugly place and betrayed her… She gathered her remaining strength and made a final, desperate sprint, _leaping_ off the drop-off and trusting her natural agility to protect her from injury. 

The darkness had hidden it from her like some sick joke: the drop-off was barely worth being called that. She was still so terribly visible. She resisted the urge to just stop, or perhaps dither in circles, and looked for the spot least likely to be found by the weak sunlight. There was a sort of depression not far ahead where the darkness still looked complete. She scurried toward it, so intent she didn't detect the near-silent, _real_ wingbeats above her until the talon struck her hard, pinning her down as it ripped into her. A gout of blood accompanied her surprised, despairing squeak, the only blessing that it was over so quickly she barely felt a thing. 

The owl consumed its mouse quickly, right there in the bottom of the empty reflecting pool and flew off for some well-earned slumber. There was nothing left but a bit of fur and the blood, which trickled down to join with the small pool of liquid that was not water in its dark, welcoming depression. 

Once again, all was still. 


	12. Part 2: The Free Marches

Socks and Eluvians

"Will I need extra socks? I seem to recall being in constant need of extra socks the last time we had to rough it," Dorian said as he contemplated his travelling bag.

"How did you come to the conclusion we're going to be roughing it?" I asked.

"Amatus, we are going to the Free Marches to a place called Wildervale. How could that not involve roughing it?"

"I see your point. I've never actually been there. I seem to recall some outdoorsy friend of my parents saying they had good fishing there."

"Oh, goody."

"I wasn't suggesting we go fishing, I was just saying. Anyway, I needed to go to Hasmal, so no matter what, this trip won't be a complete waste of time." 

"We could just stay in Hasmal and have Cam bring your friend's things to us."

I chuckled. "I like that idea, but I doubt Cam will. Maybe you'll like Wildervale."

He snorted. "And perhaps you'll become a devotee of plaidweave." 

"Only if you do first," I said.

He looked me up and down and gave me a slow, wicked grin.

"What?" 

He looked entirely too smug for comfort.

"Well, I just realized — you've been living here for a solid year now. Aside from trips to Hasmal that don't really count, you haven't been in the south."

"So?"

"So you've become accustomed to the way we do things here. You'll finally see the south for the nigh-primitive backwater it is."

"You mean I'll finally understand what you were complaining about the whole time we lived there?"

"I did not complain. I was merely culturally dismayed. Wait until you notice just how sooty everything is. Although with your penchant for black, perhaps that won't be an issue."

"Perhaps I'll finally appreciate the depths to which you suffered for me, hm?"

"You jest now, but you may find yourself thanking me profusely for staying with you in that antiquated icebox."

=#=

Our plan was to take the eluvian path to Hasmal, then head overland from there. Technically, with Fen'Harel defeated and control of the eluvian network up in the air, we could have attempted to re-calibrate ours to go through it, but we were in no hurry. 

From what we'd gathered, everything associated with that network was still quite chaotic, with some groups of rebel elves hiding out in the Crossroads, using it as a nexus from which they could launch attacks on the disparate points in Thedas the active eluvians reached. There was also someone who appeared to be attempting to break any remaining eluvian he or she found. All in all, it seemed safer to keep our own little private network to ourselves and wait for the main one to sort itself out. 

We'd travel light this first leg of the trip, as we could pick up most of what we needed in Hasmal.

Before setting out, we'd taken a few days to prepare and show Cam a slice of Qarinus city. Even though most people assumed he was our servant everywhere we went, he had a wonderful time and was suitably impressed with some of the unique-to-Tevinter (read, magically enhanced) places and shows we took him to.

He wasn't so impressed the next day when he realized that in order to start our journey south, he was expected to walk through a magic mirror. 

At Lucien's insistence, we'd set up the eluvian in what used to be a guest house. It wasn't that the big mirror made him nervous; rather that we had a few horses we'd trained to be comfortable with crossing through them, and Lucien wouldn't hear of us bringing horses into the main house. Though we'd talked about using the eluvian while we were discussing the trip, neither one of us had thought to explain it to Cam, and he hadn't thought to ask.

I'd had vague intentions of making sure he was ready for it in the morning, but we got to bed late, then got up early, had to check all our gear and give Lucien last minute instructions…and then there was Swivet.

I was feeling increasingly guilty about leaving Swivet again. Unlike when I lodged him with friends in Hasmal, there was no one who cared enough about the little guy to play with him or just fuss over him once in a while. Lucien ensured someone fed and watered him, and changed his box, but for some reason Swivet made him uncomfortable. 

I'd heard of no other servants taking a liking to my nug (maybe they thought they weren't supposed to), so when we weren't around, he was very alone. I decided that had to change, because it wasn't fair to him, and I hated to see him unhappy.

In other words, I was more concerned with saying goodbye to my very unhappy nug and remembering to buy some of Swivet's favourite treats from my Hasmal baker as a peace offering. Making sure the elf understood how we were getting to Hasmal hadn't even entered my mind, and Dorian was preoccupied with his own concerns.

We realized the oversight when we met the groomsman with our horses in front of the guest house. Dorian unlocked the door and we walked the horses in. Cam followed, looking at us in confusion as Dorian re-locked the door. 

"Is there some reason we're locking us and your horses into your house or is it some mad Tevinter thing I never heard of? You're not gonna do some ghastly blood magic travelling ritual are you?"

"This is where the eluvian is," I said. "It's how we're going to Hasmal. We talked about it the last few nights, remember?"

"Yeah. What's an eluvian?"

"It's an elven artifact used for travel. We should probably just show you," Dorian said.

We led him and the horses to what was once a modest living room. Now the great mirror stood at the back. As Dorian and I entered, it 'woke', glowing slightly as hints of colours and shapes seemed to swim just beneath the surface of the glass. We'd keyed it to respond only when one of us was present to prevent anyone else from accessing it without our consent.

Cam approached it cautiously. "What's it do? It feels funny."

"You walk through it. It takes you to an in-between place. Then we'll ride through that to another eluvian that lets out in my house in Hasmal. We'll be there in hours instead of days," I said.

He glared at us. "You're having me on, yeah? You want me to believe that?"

"Doesn't really matter whether you do or not; you'll see soon enough. Just follow us through. Your horse is used to it," I said.

"I wonder what he'll see," Dorian mused.

"Oh, yes, I should tell you — if it's anything like the main Crossroads, you'll probably see things differently than we do. It's an elven network, and it looks quite a bit different to elves, apparently."

"You're bloody serious," Cam said, brown eyes wide and a trifle dismayed.

Dorian grinned. "Don't worry — it's mostly safe. Shall we go?"

"No." Cam sat on one of the wooden chairs that had been pushed to the side of the room and folded his arms across his chest. "This is bollocks. I trust you, Kai, but you're absolute shite at explaining what you expect me to walk into. I don't even know what the main Crossroads is."

He had a legitimate complaint, so we gave him a quick history of the ancient network of eluvians the elves had used to travel long distances in a fraction of the time it would normally take.

"The Crossroads is the nexus for the eluvians," Dorian explained. "It's not the Fade; it's an in-between place that is connected to this world. For all we know, it's connected to other worlds as well."

"That's what Morrigan was hinting at," I said. We'd discussed that possibility a lot.

Cam squinted at us. "Hunh? What other worlds?"

"That's not important right now," Dorian said. "What is, is once you entered the Crossroads you merely needed to go to the eluvian corresponding to your destination, walk through it and you were in that place."

"Smashing. So why don't we just use those crossroads then?" Cam asked.

We explained the situation. "So we built our own," I said. "If you think about the Crossroads as an enclosed system of tunnels or roads, well, our road is sitting on the outside top of those tunnels, so we're able to tap into the magic without them knowing we're there."

Cam chewed his lower lip. "I like the sneaky aspect, but a lot of that was clear as mud."

"Just follow us," I said. "That's really the best way." I took my horse's reins and stepped through the mirror.

I was used to the lurching feeling of expanding and contracting simultaneously now, and no longer had to pause a moment when I reached the other side. I led my horse forward to make way for the others, checking about quickly to make sure there were no local denizens nearby.

Dorian came next, doing much the same as I. He mounted his horse and fiddled with the harness for his staff, ensuring there would be no impediment if he needed it quickly. I'd abandoned my staff in favour of my crossbows, and once I'd mounted my own horse, did a similar check to ensure I could draw them easily.

Cam came through a few moments later, seeming to have little trouble with the transition. He walked a few paces forward to make way for his horse and stood there, gazing about in wonderment. "Andraste's big, bouncy tits, what is this place?"

"Like we said, it's the outer skin of the Crossroads. We can go into detail about it later if you like," I said.

"What does it look like to you?" Dorian asked.

"It's…fuck me. It's a bit much to take in all at once, ennit?"

"If you're fond of grey," Dorian said.

Cam blinked at him. "Grey?"

"That's what we humans see, yes. Everything is almost aggressively grey."

"Well, to me it's bloody swimming in colour." Cam looked down at the ground. "Literally. You really only see grey?"

"Grey fog up to our ankles, grey rocks…even the sky looks grey," I said.

"Well, take my word for it: the ground is covered in fog, but it's like all different colours swimming around each other but they don't mix and there's little sparks and shite shooting through it. Maker's breath, it's enough to give you a sodding headache if you look at it too long." He rubbed his eyes and mounted his horse. "The air's got all little sparks too. And this is gonna sound mental but…it looks like the sky ends maybe twenty feet up."

"Really?" Dorian looked delighted. "It would seem there's a limit to the ambient magic of the Crossroads and Cam can actually see it."

"We're lucky it extends as far as it does," I said.

"I wonder what's above it," he said almost dreamily.

Cam shrugged. "Most likely certain death. Maybe you think that's the mutt's nuts, but I don't fancy finding out. Is there anything else I should know about this place?"

"Well, the local wildlife's unpleasant, but they're easy to kill as long as you're ready for them," I said.

"What sort of wildlife?" Cam frowned.

"Think giant, aggressive spiders but with more legs," Dorian said. "Maker only knows what they'll look like to you."

"This place gets more banging every minute. Can we get going so we can leave it again?" 

We spurred our horses forward through the relentless grey that was apparently a relentless riot of colour to Cam. The exact direction we chose didn't matter, as our two eluvians had essentially set up a corridor between themselves and unless one made a conscious effort to go off-track, all directions led from one eluvian to the other. 

For the first while Dorian and I amused ourselves asking Cam what everything looked like. The rocky outcroppings that were scattered all over the place (and where the spider-things seemed to live)? Cam made a face. "They're closer to black than grey, but I think that's because of the film."

"Film? All we see is patches of some sort of blackish green sludge," I said.

"Yeah, the sludge is blackish green, and it kind of glows. But the whole rocks are bloody coated with…something. I dunno what. It looks kind of greasy and there's dodgy-looking colours moving around on them too, but real slow," Cam reported. "I wouldn't want to sit on them."

I shuddered slightly. "No, you wouldn't. I did the first time I came through here. Big mistake."

"You sat on that?"

"It looked grey to me. I also wasn't doing well at the time. The rocks themselves didn't do anything to me that I'm aware of; it was the spider-things."

"You sure it wouldn't be better to've just gone overland?"

We kept the horses going at a good clip (not a difficult thing — they may have been accustomed to it, but none of the beasts liked being in the between-world). The next few hours passed in relative silence as we travelled through the sameness. I'd permitted myself to fall into a state just a few degrees above a light doze but came out of it immediately when all three of our horses showed signs they were listening to something. Dorian put up a hand signalling 'stop' and we reined the horses in. The sounds were unmistakable now — the skittering, clicking noise of something with too many legs approaching.

Dorian readied his staff and I prepped the bolts for my little crossbow, casting fire spells on them that would trigger on impact. I'd also magically strengthened the bows so they packed quite a bit more punch than any standard model. 

"Should I be doing anything?" Cam asked.

"Just tell us what you see," Dorian said. "These things have no resistance to magical attacks. We shouldn't even have to dismount."

"Have your knives ready just in case, but it shouldn't come to that," I added. 

The horses shied restively as the things approached, but we held them in place. With a weird, ululating whistle, the creatures drew close enough to become visible. To Dorian and me they looked like giant spiders with twelve long, spiky legs (like the standard eight wasn't ghastly enough?), each with a sharp claw at the end, bodies of mottled black and grey, and eyeless, wedge-shaped heads adorned with a nasty set of mandibles. There were four of them in this group, three rounding the rock outcropping we were facing while another crested over the top. 

Cam muttered, "Andraste fuck me sideways," as he unsheathed his knives. 

We didn't wait for them to get closer. I fired a bolt at one while casting a compact fireball at another. Next to me, Dorian nailed the other two with bolts of electricity, following that up with a walking bomb spell just in case one of them managed to survive his bolts. One of mine twitched, so I pulped its head with a force spell just as one of Dorian's exploded. We waited, but there was no more movement from the two that were still relatively intact, and no other spider-things seemed inclined to approach.

We dismounted and walked over to inspect them, Cam's face squinching in revulsion. "What kind of bloody spiders are these?"

"We don't even know if they are actual spiders. Bloody things attack everyone they see, but as far as we can figure, they eat that sludge on the rocks," I said. "Their mouths are on the bottom of their abdomens. What do they look like to you, Cam?"

"Aside from really sodding ugly? They're the same as the rocks — greyish-black with a sort of slimy film covering them."

"Covering them?" Dorian echoed, saying to me, "No wonder you got so sick."

The year before I'd ended up in hand-to-hand combat with one of the ghastly things. As I'd been cut off from my magic at the time, I wasn't able to clean up or heal myself and the infection I got off the creature had nearly killed me. 

"Yes, don't touch them, Cam. They're walking disease farm," I warned him.

"Wasn't planning on it. In fact, I'd be chuffed if I never see one of these things again."

"They don't show up every trip, and as you saw, ranged attacks can take them out fairly easily," I said.

"Well, that's jolly good news seeing as I don't know ranged weapons."

"Has everyone had their fill of admiring this batch? Yes? Then perhaps we should resume our little jaunt through this bucolic countryside," Dorian said. 

We took his advice.

The rest of the trek was uneventful, and we were all pleased when the other eluvian hove into view. We dismounted and I took the lead, crossing into the back room of my house in Hasmal. It appeared to be mid-evening, judging by the light coming through the small window. 

I unlocked the door and led my horse out of the house, tethering him to the hitching rail outside. Dorian and Cam did the same and we went back inside.

Purely for my own peace of mind, I did a quick inspection of my house. It was all exactly as it should be, and it looked as if someone had even tried to keep the dust under control. 

Cam followed me as Dorian got himself a glass of water. "So this is your house? Like, all of it?" the elf asked.

"Well, there's a root cellar downstairs, but yes, this is the whole house," I said.

"A whole room just for books? You actually read them all?"

"I actually do."

He shook his head. "Not my idea of fun, but it's horses for courses, I guess." He flashed a grin at me. "I like it. It's not so in-your-face like your place in Tevinter."

"I heard that," Dorian shouted from the kitchen. 

Before joining him, I stopped at the small table by the front door. There was a bell hanging just over it that I cast a spell on. It dinged and flashed blue light to let me know it had registered.

"What was that for?" Cam asked as I pumped a glass for him and myself and we joined Dorian at the table.

"Just letting our friends know we're here."

"I got hold of Sera and Dagna before we left," Dorian said. "They're expecting us. Ademar was there when I contacted them, and they said they'll ask Mikal over for dinner."

"Good. I want to surprise her. I found those herbs she was so keen on getting."

"You've been talking to your friends here like you used to talk to Dorian when we were on the road, aren't you?" Cam said, giving me a shrewd look.

"You remember that? Yes, we are."

"He wouldn't tell us how he was pulling that off except to mumble something about it being magic and private," Cam informed Dorian.

"We use these," Dorian said, taking one of our sending crystals out of its case to show him. "They're terrifically useful, but they're not easy to come by."

"And at the time, mine was the only way I had to talk to Dorian," I added. "So I was very protective of it."

"Yes, he couldn't bear the thought of not hearing my dulcet tones for even one night," Dorian said with a grin.

"Arse. I seem to remember you insisting I contact you every night as well." 

As if reacting to our conversation, the crystal Dorian pulled out chimed, letting us know the other person was trying to contact us. Dorian activated it, setting it on the table. 

"Hello, Sera." 

"Is that you, Dorian?" came Sera's voice. "Is Kai there? When are you coming over?"

"Kai's right here and I suppose we can leave any time. You needn't shout, you know."

"I'm not shouting." Sera's never been completely convinced that you can speak normally into a sending crystal. 

We heard a voice in the background then Sera came back on. "Can you stop by Kai's bakery on the way? Get some of those chocolaty things you always get. Oh! And the lemon ones. What? Oh yeah, Ademar said those spiced venison things too. And there's those blobby things with the fruit filling?"

"Shall we just get one of everything in the store?" Dorian said.

"Oh, ha-ha, you're so very funny. Kai knows what to get. Is he there?"

"I'm here," I said, "And I'll get everything."

"Brilliant! You should go so it doesn't close. Dunno why you're faffing about over there anyway. Kai, Dagna and Ademar have something for you!"

"We'll be right over," I said. "Are you making coffee?"

"Don't worry, there'll be some. Right. You should go, so I should go so you can go. I'm going now. Get your arses over here!" She signed off.

Cam stared at the crystal. "Who was that?"

I grinned. "That was Sera. She's a very good friend; you'll see." 

"Well, you heard her. We'd best stop faffing about and get our arses over there," Dorian said.


	13. Once More, With Feeling

We stopped first at the bakery down the street. Palmiera, a solid, fiftyish woman who was the owner and sole proprietor, professed to be delighted to see me after such a long absence. She asked after Swivet, told us snippets of the latest gossip and gave all three of us a free pastry of our choice. Because she was being so nice, I ended up buying more than I planned, but she really is a brilliant baker, so I was sure everything would be consumed.

"Is she keen on you?" Cam asked once we left.

"She's just a very nice lady, and I've spent quite a lot of money at her bakery. And she thinks I have pretty eyes," I replied.

"So she is keen on you."

"Just his eyes," Dorian said with a smirk. "The rest of him, not so much."

"That was cruel and uncalled for," I objected. "For all you know, she covets the whole package."

"Well, she can't have it. I don't care how many delicious confections she tries to tempt and cajole with."

"No wonder you two are together; you both talk all posh," Cam said.

"Not always," I said.

"Yeah you do. You can't help it. Even when you didn't know Fadik and me and were trying to act like just another merc, you'd relax and start using big words and shite. It's fine; I just don't know a lot of people that talk like you."

For all my posh words, I really didn't have an answer to that. Of course, Dorian did.

He grinned. "Alas, betrayed by your own vocabulary. There go all your hopes of next posing as an itinerant dock worker."

We dropped off the horses at the stables I always used (along with another round of cheerful greeting revolving around how long it had been since I was in Hasmal), then walked to Sera and Dagna's.

Sera must have been looking out the window, because she opened their door even before we'd knocked. 

"There's you lot, yeah?" she said with a grin. "Get in here, we haven't seen you in, like, forever." She hugged me and Dorian hello, then saw Cam. "No hugs for you. Who's this, then?"

"Camren of Denerim at your service, lovely lady," Cam said with a flourishy little bow.

Sera rolled her eyes. "Sorry, neither. Do I know you?"

"He's a friend of mine," I explained as we followed her into the kitchen and deposited our bags from the bakery on their big worktable. "We did that run to Tevinter together when I was doing that thing for Cassandra. Hi, Dagna! Where's Ademar?"

Dagna gave us a friendly wave as Sera said, "Oh, that elf. Ad's gone to the inn to order us food. Have a seat. Except Kai; he needs to get himself coffee."

I gave her a wounded look. "Get myself coffee? Even though I'm a guest and you haven't seen me forever?"

"You know where everything is and they don't, you lazy git."

"You wound me, Sera. Deeply." I got myself a coffee despite my supposed anguish and sat down next to Dorian.

Eventually we got ourselves sorted out with beverages, baked goods and seating arrangements. 

Ademar — the master artificer who, along with Dagna, had constructed my wonderful left forearm — entered the kitchen and saluted us as he retook his seat. 

"Greetings, what ho, and considering whence you've arrived, avanna!" Ademar talks like that. From him, it somehow always sounds appropriate. "Our victuals shall soon be arriving, hopefully along with the final member of this scintillating assemblage." 

He stroked his short-cropped beard and looked around the table. "Though at the moment all we need is two Qunari and we'd be a sort of living testament to Thedosian togetherness."

Sera crinkled her nose at him. "How do you figure?"

"We have two elves, two dwarves and two humans all existing in perfect harmony." He gave her a beneficent smile.

She looked around the table and said, "Well, balls, now you managed to turn this creepy."

"Shall we argue for you?" Dorian asked. "Perhaps call each other disparaging names?"

The conversation was derailed by a knock on the front door. Sera bounded off to answer it and returned trailed by a middle-aged woman with grey-blue eyes and dusty blond hair done up in a thick braid. 

Mikal Welton owns an alchemical and sundries shop in the northwest district of Hasmal. In addition to her alchemical skills, Mikal has many others, most of them lethal. She's also a dear friend and the person who reintroduced me to mini-crossbows. 

As Sera stepped aside, Mikal's face lit up with a wide grin. "Kai! Dorian! What are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming."

"We wanted to surprise you," I said and handed her the package I'd brought from Tevinter. "I found those herbs you were after."

She thanked me enthusiastically and sat down next to Dorian, who leaned over and whispered something to her. She laughed and said no; I was going to have to ask him what that was all about. 

In short order Cam was introduced to Mikal and Ademar, the food arrived and was consumed and talk turned to heading to the pub to carry on the festivities.

Ademar put a hand up. "Not so quickly. Before we depart, you'll recall we said we had something for you, Kai. But first I fear we must take one more time."

Dagna gave me a sweet, guileless smile that told me all I needed to know. "How much do you need?"

"Not much at all; you'll barely notice," she said. "But we do need it. The fresher the better, so this is ideal." She took an oddly-shaped piece of flexible…something out of the container she had next to her, put on a pair of spectacles lensed with small, adjustable magnifiers and, with a delicate, sharp-bladed tool, etched something into the piece. There was a small flash accompanied by a pulse of what felt like powerful magic, even though Dagna had no magical ability whatsoever. She put it in a small bowl and said, "Your turn."

"Your turn for what?" Dorian asked me.

"Believe it or not, that is a rune, specially designed to work in and with the arm. It demands to be fed before it'll do nice things for me." I gave him a wry smile and offered up my right arm to Dagna. 

She took another tool and pierced a vein then everyone watched as I bled into the bowl. Even before Dagna declared me done and gave me permission to heal myself, the rune was absorbing my blood thirstily.

Dorian was clearly fascinated. "So this is what you were telling me about. This is marvellous, amatus."

"It's akin to blood magic, but it isn't," I said. "What Dagna's done with the runes is leagues past what anyone else has accomplished."

Ademar said, "Your arm, if you please."

I raised my eyebrows. "Already?"

"I had it primed before you got here," Dagna explained. 

I pushed up my left sleeve and gave the arm a mental command to let go, accompanying it with a twist and pull on the arm itself. It separated from what was left of my real arm and I passed it to Dagna.

"Would it bother you if I hover?" Dorian asked the dwarves. "I've never seen anything like this before."

Ademar looked at Dagna and shrugged. "Hover away. Just don't get in the way of the light."

"I can cast extra light for you."

Dagna grinned. "Then you're hired. We need steady light right here."

Dorian obliged, adjusting the whiteness and intensity until they were satisfied. Everyone at the table watched as Ademar took the arm, did something with a long, thin tool, then slid the outer covering of 'skin' and 'muscle' down (as the appearance rune that made it look utterly real hadn't been deactivated, that process looked decidedly bizarre and a little ghoulish) to reveal the metal 'bones' and the interconnected runes that made it move and respond to me so naturally. Once he'd readied it, it was Dagna's turn. She lifted the oddly-shaped rune out of the bowl and set it carefully in the arm. Ademar donned his own pair of magnifying spectacles and they both bent over it, doing whatever they needed to do to marry it to the rest of the arm. 

For several minutes Dorian was rapt, Mikal was watching carefully and Sera and Cam started whispering to each other, evidently bored with the goings-on. Finally there were a series of tiny flashes from deep inside the arm, accompanied by another powerful pulse of magic, and both dwarves removed their spectacles.

"That should be it," Dagna said with a satisfied look.

Ademar moved to put my arm back together but Dorian stopped him. "Just for a moment, may I see how it works?"

Ademar looked at me. "Kai? Can you wait until your one true love's curiosity is satisfied?"

"It is one of the things I love about him," I said. "Just don't take too long demonstrating, will you, oh Master Artificer?"

"I am as efficient at demonstrations as I am at all things," Ademar said. Mikal crowded closer to look too as Ademar gave them a basic lecture/demonstration on how it worked. He did manage to succinctly cover the basics within ten minutes then put the arm back together. He turned his attention back to me. 

"Now, while I don't want to raise your hopes unreasonably, this should open up a limited but useful new vista for you."

"My hopes are suitably small and self-effacing," I assured him. 

He handed me my arm. I brought it close to my stump and was no longer startled when it seemed to wrap itself around the real arm. I wasn't sure what I might be waiting for. So far I didn't notice anything different about it.

Dagna leaned over and whispered something to Dorian. He smiled, scooched closer to me and wrapped his hand around my left wrist, holding it firmly. At first I wasn't sure of the point, then, "Dorian! That's bloody cold," I complained, pulling away from him. A moment later I realized what I'd said. "Oh, my fucking maker…I felt that," I said slowly as the enormity of what just happened hit me. "I felt that."

"How much did you feel?" asked Ademar.

I blinked stupidly at him. "How much? I don't know. I don't know how much Dorian was putting into his spell. It was an ice spell, right?"

Dorian nodded. "It did take a few moments for you to notice. Shall I try something else?"

At my go-ahead, he took my wrist again and cast. It did take a few moments, but once again I felt. "Heat?"

"That's right. The point where you felt it would have had you yelping already with your real arm, but it hadn't reached scalding levels. Last experiment?"

"Bring it on." This one was simple: he just wrapped his hand around my forearm and squeezed. Again it took longer than the real arm, but I started to feel the pressure of his hand. "It feels…like it would if you did that while I was wearing leather gloves and my coat. Kind of dull."

"That's about what we expected," Ademar said.

"Yeah, introducing that two-way communication is hair-pullingly tricky," Dagna added.

Dorian squeezed my hand and ran his fingers slowly up my arm. I could tell he was putting some muscle behind it but… 

"I can definitely feel that," I murmured. 

I'd gone through a year of no forearm at all and nothing but a shitty wooden prosthesis, followed by a year with Ademar and Dagna's marvellous creation, which could do anything a real forearm could do except feel. This was nowhere near what my real arm could feel, but after years of absolutely nothing, it was miraculous to be sensing anything.

I'm sure I looked as gobsmacked as I felt as I said, "It bloody works. You are fucking brilliant." I pulled Dorian to me and kissed him soundly; he grinned when I released him.

"Oh sure, Widdle and Ad do all the work and Dorian gets the thank you," Sera teased.

"If they want me to kiss them, I will," I said.

"That's not necessary," Ademar hurriedly replied.

"I think Dorian will appreciate it more," Dagna added.

"Indeed," Dorian said with a sultry smile. "Such unbridled enthusiasm bodes well for later tonight."

"I haven't even started boding," I said, giving him an arch look back before saying to the dwarves, "I also can't begin to think how I can thank the both of you enough."

"You may think differently when you see the bill," Ademar said.

I shook my head. "Worth every copper. If there's anything either of you need, just let me know."

"I'm thinking this offers a capital excuse to celebrate," Mikal said. She'd been quietly watching everything with interest. I knew she was just as fascinated by my arm as Dorian, and was sure Ademar and Dagna were later going to be questioned at length.

"I like the way you think," said Ademar. "Now, weren't we discussing taking this assemblage to the pub?"

We did, and a good time was had by all. Cam fit into our little group effortlessly and seemed to be enjoying himself. By the time we'd decided to call it a night, Cam had enjoyed himself to the point where we hauled him back to Sera and Dagna's and poured him onto their living room couch. They assured us they didn't mind letting him sleep at their place, so Dorian and I went back to my place without him. Mikal accompanied us back to our neighbourhood, said her goodnights and left for her own house.

We stepped inside my place and Dorian said, "I think a private celebration is in order, don't you?"

I took him in my arms. "I've been thinking that all night."


	14. Catching Up

We spent a few days in Hasmal catching up with everyone. I took care of a few home-ownerey things and reminded my bank that I physically existed, but none of that makes for interesting reading. 

I experimented with my hand and forearm, sometimes with Dorian's help, learning how much and what I could feel now. It was much as Ademar and Dagna had predicted: I could sense broad variances in temperature and pressure but not subtle ones. The sensations were dull and muted, akin to wearing a heavy leather glove. It wasn't perfect, but it was a damn sight more than I'd had previously and I was (and am) very grateful. 

Dorian was in his glory making pithy comments about the woeful fashion and aesthetic choices of the citizens of Hasmal (okay, I admit I joined in with him frequently. I've been with the man for years; he's been a bad influence on me). He also had some sort of guessing game going with Mikal, but much to my annoyance, neither of them would tell me what they were up to. 

He and I got an unexpected amount of time to ourselves. Cam had become enamoured of the northwest district — particularly the pub we normally frequent there — and had taken to hanging around there every moment he could. Ademar was letting him use his spare bedroom, as the ginger-haired elf only went there to sleep for a few hours every night before heading back out. I suspected Hasmal was going to have another permanent resident once this was over. 

While Cam expanded his social life in new and interesting ways, Dorian and I visited Sera and Dagna the first night, Mikal the second and Ademar the third. We didn't do or discuss anything of great importance — just had some drinks, played some cards or what have you and talked. 

Sera was busier than ever with the Jennys after their fabulously effective revenge on Duke Antoine of Wycome and his inner circle of corrupt supporters. It had been a remarkably subtle campaign, especially for the Jennys; I'm sure some of that was the influence of Matthias Lavellan, one of the few survivors of the Dalish clan Antoine had caused to be massacred as a cover-up for his own corrupt activities in alliance with the Venatori. Matthias had found his way to Hasmal and the Jennys expressly to take down Antoine. 

For months they'd had servants, unnoticed by their noble superiors, writing down private and damning conversations that they arranged to overhear. Others were stealing correspondence that, when amassed, made clear the collusion to blame the elves for their activities, which included poisoning wells with red lyrium in hopes of turning the population of Wycome into monsters for the Venatori and Corypheus to use back during those dark days. There were other, more pedestrian plots they'd been up to as well, mostly to do with amassing money and property for themselves at the expense of their people. 

Once they'd got all their proverbial ducks in a row, they'd made a two-pronged attack. The Jennys had successfully used the time-honoured ploy of crafting a play that contained all the information they'd gathered, including verbatim conversations, turning it into a Grand Guignol of a horrific drama laced through with dark comedy. It was an instant hit, and was playing everywhere before Antoine and his people even got wind of it. Not everyone got who it was about, but enough did that a groundswell of sentiment against the duke and his people quickly built up. 

At the same time, they handed the damning correspondence over to some highly placed nobles who had no love for the current government, then sat back to watch Wycome explode. 

And explode it did, but in a surprisingly orderly manner. In short order several nobles were rounded up and imprisoned or exiled. Antoine himself was tried and given a very public execution. Afterward, the organizers of the coup set up a new government, not with a Duke or any other noble at the head, but a City Council with representatives from not just the noble classes, but four human merchants, a prominent city elf, and Matthias, who was ceded a tract of land for the remaining members of his clan to rebuild on. Sera had been jubilant for weeks after about the outcome. 

Dagna had been working more closely with Ademar since they'd had such success with my arm and discussed my coming down sometime soon to demonstrate it for a few people who had suffered similar injuries. Her ability with runecraft was still growing with every piece she made (aside from the pedestrian ones she banged out for customers to help pay for her more innovative work). I wouldn't be surprised if she eventually did figure out how to make a set of runes that would allow my prosthesis to transmit the same level of feeling as my real arm. 

Mikal claimed all she was doing was running her modest alchemical and magical supply shop and having quiet nights at home with Donnen, her big black-and-white cat, but I get the feeling she was involved in all manner of interesting things behind the scenes. The massive warehouse of goods attached to her modest shop alone is a good indicator of that. She and Dorian were still playing their guessing game, but still wouldn't tell me what it was about. Both claimed it was silly. One of these days I was going to have to get to the bottom of that. 

Ademar was aggressively pursuing contracts to construct prostheses for people and reiterated Dagna's request that we set up a demonstration for potential customers soon. I agreed, of course, and the rest of the night was spent with him trying unsuccessfully to best us at Wicked Grace. 

Each night Dorian and I left early enough to have several hours entirely to ourselves. Since Dorian had never properly seen the city, we explored Hasmal. I'd shown him my favourite areas then as we went further afield, we found a few pubs and a theatre I'd been unaware of. The play showing at the theatre was an Orlesian bedroom farce that had been changed up to better fit the Free Marches. We went to it expecting it to be sublimely awful, but it turned out to be quite well-written and performed. 

At home, we started what was destined to become a never-ending cribbage tournament, spent some time being intimate, and enjoyed having nothing we were required to do for a few days. 

It was reassuring to confirm that even with nothing demanding our attention, we still enjoyed simply being in each other's company. There's honestly no one I'd rather spend time with than Dorian, and he swears he feels the same about me. Since he made no effort to avoid me or introduce anyone or –thing else into our time together, I believe him. Not much of a revelation, I suppose, but he's one of the few truly good and constant things in my life and the thought that that could one day change or even end terrifies me. You'll have to excuse me if I occasionally celebrate the small miracle that it hasn't. 

But enough introspection. There are more interesting things to discuss than my emotional state. 

For instance, there was the thing I hadn't expected: Much as I hated to admit it, I discovered Dorian was right. I had gotten used to Tevinter, with its liberal use of magic in everyday life, and suddenly there were all manner of things that seemed impossibly primitive or stubbornly backwards of the south to insist on doing without magic. It's not like they'd come up with mechanical wonders to compensate; they just did without. Where I'd never given it a thought before, I was now seeing dreadful lighting, spotty, inefficient temperature control indoors, questionable sanitation, dull, uninspired store fronts, and a score of other little things that gave me some understanding why Tevinter seemed insufferably arrogant to so many southerners. Many things in Tevinter really _were_ superior, (I'm not talking about anything that required slave labour) and I found myself copping a bit of an attitude without intending to. Dorian was not above smugly saying _I told you so_ when I commented on it. 

Fortunately, Hasmal was perfect to ease back into the way things are done in the south. It was familiar and we could still use casual magic at home and around our friends as long as it wasn't so flashy that others would notice. The area of the city we were in is also much more inclined to leave you alone unless you go out of your way to draw attention to yourself, something I've always liked about the place. Both Dorian and I would have been content to remain in Hasmal and have ourselves a small holiday, but we'd promised Cam we'd help him, so on the fourth day we got back on the road, heading south to Wildervale. 


	15. Into the Wilds

As always, the first leg of the trip was a mind-numbingly dull trek through the scenic cabbage farms that blanketed both sides of the road from Hasmal to the Minanter River. Once we used the ferry to cross, the landscape became marginally more interesting. At least it wasn't all cabbage. 

The trip to Wildervale took three days of steady riding. Fortunately we were able to stick to main roads, so we made good time and there were inns at regular enough intervals that we didn't have to camp. As we neared Wildervale it looked as if it was going to live up to its name. The flat land became a little more hilly and a lot more forested the closer we got to the foothills of the Vimmark mountains. 

"This place isn't _in_ the mountains, is it?" Dorian asked. "The maps don't seem to have told the whole truth about the topography here."  

"Nah, it's just _kind of_ mountainy," Cam said. "We'll turn off before we get to the foothills proper." 

"Are there bears? This looks exactly like places we've been to before that all had bears," I said. 

"Dunno." Cam shrugged. "I've never seen any." 

"I've had quite enough of bears to last a lifetime," Dorian said. 

" _Two_ lifetimes," I corrected. 

The road was still wide, but there was serious forest on either side of it now, and no sign of inhabited areas approaching. It was late afternoon and I was beginning to worry that our string of luck with available inns had run out. 

"We turn up here," Cam announced, pointing ahead to a road sign promising something if we turned left. "Then it's just another half hour." 

"A half hour? Where _is_ this place? According to the map it should be practically in our faces already," I complained. The road we were turning down looked even woodsier than the main road. 

"Does this mean we get to encounter _more_ swarms of mosquitoes? I think I may have one small spot of skin remaining they haven't discovered yet," Dorian said. 

"I think they get away with that spot on the map because the sign pointing to town is there," Cam said. 

"It's not a big enough sign to warrant that level of attention," I said. "I must say, Cam, I'd never have thought you were so… _elfy_ , as Sera would say." 

Cam narrowed his eyes at me. "How does this make me elfy?" 

I shrugged. "Well, you know…all these woods." 

"It does suggest you may get a good, barefoot frolic in between jobs," Dorian added. 

"I'm from _Denerim_ , you twats. This is just a convenient _place_." 

"I bet he goes down to the lake and wades when he's done frolicking," I said to Dorian. 

"Or sits by the shore painting watercolours of the light shining through the trees then goes back to his garret to write poetry about it." 

"You think this is going to be the sort of town that has garrets?" 

"Hmm…probably not." Dorian frowned. "Given his roguish propensities, perhaps he finds scenic nooks on rooftops?" 

"Works for me," I said. 

"You can both sod right off," Cam said. 

_=#=_

I'll give the denizens of Wildervale credit: The road was well-tended and clear of ruts and debris even though the trees pressed close on either side. It didn't look as if much frolicking was done in that forest — too much thick underbrush and deadfall. I assumed it became friendlier as one neared the lake. Considering how far off the main road it really was, it was no wonder I'd never seen Wildervale. 'Good fishing' has never been something I was interested in pursuing. 

We rode into Wildervale in the late afternoon. 

"You know, I've used the word _rustic_ many times in reference to things here in the south, but this must be where rustic goes for its source material," Dorian said. "I don't believe I've ever seen a place so determinedly _woodsy_." 

He was right. Every building we could see was a log cabin, or log cabin-style. Though they must have had access to the same carpenters as the rest of the Free Marches, everything had an aggressively hand-hewn look to it. Every sign we saw seemed to have worked a tribute to hunting, fishing or lumberjacking into its motif. 

"Seeing this place, I'd really love to know how many cartographers they paid off to get that bigger dot on the maps," I said. "This is — Andraste's furry ass, what is that?" 

_That_ was the tableau they'd set up smack in the middle of the square in the town centre. 

The focal point was a tree stump roughly the circumference of four normal-sized trees. Sticking out of it was an axe big enough that a pride demon would probably have trouble brandishing it. Standing sturdily alongside the stump, resting one hand on the axe, was a statue of a lumberjack. It was bigger than most giants, with a terrifyingly toothy grin on its bearded face, muscles on muscles straining against its oh-so-woodsy lumberjack outfit. Whoever had carved the statue apparently had only a loose grasp of anatomy and a barely nodding acquaintance with the concept of proportion, meaning the whole thing was just _wrong_ enough to be unsettling from every angle. To ensure you couldn't ignore it, it had been garishly painted: forest green trousers tucked into woody brown boots, a red-and-blue checked shirt, feverishly pink face with a big, black beard and a mustard-yellow cap to top the ensemble. 

Next to the lumberjack was an equally off-kilter statue of a demented-looking black bear standing on its hind legs. It was holding a fishing pole. 

" _Fasta vass,_ " Dorian murmured, "they have taken bad taste and raised it to heights heretofore only witnessed in the fever dreams of madmen. Please tell me this is a temporary placement meant to be comedic." 

"Oh, they're serious as shite," Cam said. " _That_ is the town hero of legend: Brod Banton the Homesteader and his loyal bear Arvid. Go read the plaque on the stump." 

"Broad Banton? This keeps getting better and better." 

"Why did I not know about this? How could anyone talk about this place and not mention that monstrosity?" I said. It was hard to tear my eyes away from the scene, it was so exquisitely dreadful. "Why is the bear holding a fishing pole?" 

"Why indeed," Dorian said. "If only there was a way to commemorate this for others to see. Descriptions alone cannot do it justice." 

"Just don't let on to the locals you think it's anything less than the mutt's nuts," Cam advised. "They've themed this whole place around that sad bastard." 

"And you _chose_ to live here?" I said. 

"It's just a place to store my stuff and get some sleep, yeah? It's central. It's not like I come here to stare at that bloody thing all day." 

"Right, not with all that frolicking to do." 

"I don't remember you being this much of an arse last time." 

Dorian dismounted to look at the plaque. "Oh. _Brod_ Banton. Pity." 

I joined him as he read the legend. "According to this, Brod not only hewed this idyllic location out of primaeval forest single-handedly with yon axe, he also dug the lake and another, larger one to the north because he wanted a drink of water and the bear wanted to fish." 

"That's what the bear's there for? To fish?" 

"It's also his faithful companion. There is an entire cycle of legends concerning Brod and Arvid, according to this." 

"I'm sure the collection is available for a reasonable price at the local town hall," I predicted. "I just want to know why the stupid bear is holding a fishing pole." 

"Perhaps he's a magic bear and it's a disguised staff." 

"Um, guys? We should probably get moving. We're starting to draw attention," Cam said quietly. 

We looked around quickly and realized he was right. There were a handful of townspeople watching us with disapproving expressions. They all resembled the town in their determined woodsiness. Brown homespun and checked shirts abounded. The men all had beards and looked as if they carried whole trees about for entertainment. The two women were wearing little cloth kerchief-hats and blue gingham dresses. 

"Isn't this the part where the head of the town watch is supposed to come over and start asking us veiled questions about where we're from and how long we intend to stay?" said Dorian, his expression perfectly bland. 

"Followed by a suggestion that people like us would probably be better off in another town?" I added. 

"Do lumberjacks have pitchforks?" 

"Worse. They have axes," Cam said, then loudly, "Quite the display, ennit?" 

"Impressive," I said. 

"Fascinating, but we'd best get moving," Dorian said. 

We remounted our horses and left the town square. No one followed to question us, but we were definitely getting some ugly looks. 

Cam led us to a collection of small houses on the periphery of the town. From the sudden uptick in elven citizens, I guessed this was Wildervale's unofficial version of an alienage. 

His place was set away from the others, a log cabin (of course) with shuttered windows and a door that looked sturdier than those on most of the other houses. 

"Is there somewhere to put the horses?" I asked. "I mean, if we're going to be here overnight." 

Cam rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, there's a stable. You won't have to deal with them." 

"Then I am happy," I declared. 

Dorian chuckled. He's no fonder of tending to horses than I am, but I guess I've kicked up more of a fuss about it over the years. 

We dismounted and Cam unlocked the door, saying, "It's not as nice as your place in Hasmal and it's not in the same _world_ as your place in Tevinter; hope you can handle it." 

"I'm already overcome by rusticity," Dorian said, "Therefore I am past being further affected." 

"It's got to be better than tents," I added. 

"Ugh. _Tents_." Dorian wrinkled his nose. "The only thing more overrated than _tents_ is camping under the stars with only your bedroll and the million crawling things that call the outdoors home." 

The cabin was only a living room, bedroom and a small kitchen area, but it was sturdily built and well kept. Dorian and I took seats on an elderly but well-built couch as Cam went into his bedroom to fetch Fadik's things. 

"You realize this is probably futile," Dorian said quietly. 

"I know, but she's a friend. I don't want to think of her actually being in trouble. If it was you missing you can be bloody sure I'd be enlisting anyone I thought might be able to help." 

"Yes, but you can't live without me." 

Cam staggered out of the bedroom carrying a surprising amount of stuff: a large haversack, a smaller knapsack, a pillowcase half-filled with something, and a greatsword almost as big as he was. "This is it," he said with a gasp, dropping them in the middle of the floor, "She didn't travel light this time, as you can see." 

"I guess we're just looking for anything that seems out of place?" I asked. 

Cam looked vaguely disappointed. "You can't magic her stuff?" 

Dorian and I traded looks. "Magic it how?" 

"You know, like find out what she was doing when she disappeared by using one of her things." 

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "You mean some sort of forensic replay of its recent history?" 

"Well…yeah. Like, you do some spell on it and we see what she was doing with it last," Cam said. 

"So you'd want us to do this with everything in these bags?" I asked. 

"All right, maybe not _everything_ , but we could line up the shite she was most likely using right before she disappeared and have a little look-see, yeah?" 

"No," I said flatly. 

Cam frowned. "Why not?" 

"Because I can't do it," I said. "Dorian?" 

He shook his head. "Neither can I, and I guarantee there are few mages as knowledgeable about time magic as myself." 

"He's telling the truth, Cam." 

"I'm not asking for you to send us _back_ in time," Cam protested. 

"No, you just want to pick up the object and have a little dreamlet tell you what it experienced for perhaps fifteen minutes before your friend disappeared, correct?" Dorian said. 

"Well, yeah. Doesn't sound so bloody hard." 

"What fifteen minutes are we supposed to tell it to replay? Do _you_ know?" 

"I know what day she disappeared; can't we just go from there?" 

Dorian shot me an exasperated look. "You want to take this, Kai?" 

I sighed. "How would you suggest we go from there? In fifteen-minute increments?” 

Cam chewed at his lower lip. “I guess that’s a bit daft if we don’t know when she left. Couldn’t you just show the bits where there’s things happening and skip where there’s nothing?”

“You think we can just tell her tin of boot polish to replay its life for us? Because I'd love to know how to do that." 

"Yeah, I know you said _you_ can't, but maybe Dorian could?" 

"No," Dorian said, "he can't. I've known of a few mages who could coax histories out of things, but the things invariably used to be living. I've done a lot of work with necromantic magic, but my specialty is calling and binding spirits to act on my behalf in combat, not sitting down for a spot of tea and a chat." 

"But—" Cam began. 

"To continue my example, Fadik's polish tin was never alive. There'd be nothing to work with," I took over. "The only way there'd be a possibility of what you want is if she'd killed someone before disappearing and we had the body. Even then, not every mage can do the sort of forensic magic you want. Not to mention if this fictional dead man _were_ to tell us what he saw, well, she killed him, so he was dead before she disappeared." 

"And if we _were_ able to get the boot polish to show us the precise moments you want to see, what do you imagine it would show you?" Dorian asked. "It likely saw the inside of a carrying case or perhaps a small section of wall, except for the small fact that it has no sensory apparatus, so could see or hear nothing." 

The elf visibly deflated, sinking into his chair and scowling. "So you can't tell _anything_ with magic?" 

"Sorry, we'll have to do it the hard way." 

"Shite. The way the Chantry always talked, they make you think you lot can do _anything_ if you just have the right spell. What a load of bollocks." 

"One of the many things they neglected to mention — if they ever cared to learn anything about it — is not all mages have the same abilities at the same levels. And two mages who are equally powerful may choose to specialize in very different areas of magic. We're both more and less powerful than they led you to believe," I said. 

"And even if we had it, none of us would be able to make Andraste's soap dish give up its secrets," Dorian added. "Still, we may be able to tell you if anything in this pile is magical in some way." 

"Like a cursed charm that was mind-controlling her?" Cam said. 

"That only happens in schlocky adventure tales as a rule," I told him. "But if you see something in her things that looks out of place we can check it." 

A half hour spent looking through Fadik's things only turned up a few items that might hold some clue to where she went or what she was doing. Cam got excited when he found a glass globe with a small castle inside it that Dorian identified as magical until he explained it was a very common sort of souvenir in Tevinter. If you set it a certain way, it glowed and looked as though there was snow falling on the little castle. 

"Do you recognize the castle?" I asked him. 

He shook his head. "There are several that look like it; I don't know that it's even meant to be a specific one. They've put every sort of thing in these globes that you can imagine. There's even one that's supposed to be the Archon. It's considered very collectible, since they put a stop to it within days of the first one appearing. Apparently the hat they'd sculpted him wearing was unflattering." 

I grinned. "Considering some of the hats he wears, that's saying something." 

"His people also considered it undignified that any common idiot could make it snow on the Archon." 

Along with the globe was a scrap of paper with _Senahan back QFT 13,30_ and some sort of note or list that was written entirely in Qunlat excepting a small scribble at the top that read _MAD._

"Was she mad _about_ something or did she think something was mad?" I mused. 

"To solve that mystery, we merely need to find someone who reads Qunlat," Dorian said. 

"You know anyone?" Cam said. 

"Fadik and Bull," I replied. "Fadik's missing and maker only knows where Bull is." 

"In other words, no," Dorian said. We set the items aside to take with us and Cam packed the rest back up. 

"So!" Dorian raised his eyebrows at Cam and rubbed his hands together. "What is there to do in this bustling town of yours now that we've finished our task?" 

The answer was, of course, nothing. 

Cam assured us the locals would dislike us for being in his company, for looking like we were from somewhere urban, and for sounding too educated. We could alleviate some of that by spending a great deal of money, but if they found out we were from Tevinter and mages, they'd probably run us out of town. 

"The true definition of rustic _,"_ I observed. "If you don't understand it, chase it off or kill it." 

"Yeah, killing you would be their other choice, but I figure they'd be too scared of you," Cam said cheerfully. "You shoulda seen the looks Fadik got whenever we stopped over." 

Since we didn't feel like rewarding Wildervale with money, we took the horses to the stables and returned to Cam's cabin, where we played cards most of the evening. 

At the end of the night, Cam offered his bed to us, insisting he'd be fine on the couch. Considering the alternative would leave one of us sleeping on the floor, we agreed. 

As I unlaced my boots, Dorian looked out the bedroom window. "Do you think one can perish from a surfeit of woodsiness?" he said. 

"I don't want to stay around long enough to find out. I'm out of practice with adventuring in the wilderness and I like it that way," I replied. 

"I keep imagining that hideous lumberjack unmooring himself from that stump at night and prowling the town." 

I laughed. "Don't forget the bear." 

He turned from the window and shrugged out of his overshirt. "Did you check the under the blankets for bugs? This place is probably crawling with them, you know." 

"Thank you for putting _that_ thought in my head." I jumped up and pulled the blankets back. No bugs. At least, none that were visible. "I am definitely not taking the arm off tonight. I could just see something crawling into it." 

"Make sure to check your boots in the morning too. Remember what happened to Vivienne." 

"I still think that spider was planted there deliberately. _You_ didn't do it, did you?" 

"Please." Dorian sniffed. "Do you really think I'd do something so artless?" 

"If you wanted to cast suspicion elsewhere, you might." 

"I could say the same of you, you know." 

I snorted. "You honestly think I'd go near a spider just to annoy Vivienne? I was always capable of annoying her without having to resort to making myself uncomfortable." 

"Hm. Yes, you and spiders don't mesh well. It was probably Sera. Or Blackwall — Rainier, I mean." 

"You think he would?" 

"He might. The man has _depths_ , in a coarse, soldiery way." 

"Well, it backfired anyway. All she did was get sarcastic. More sarcastic, I should say." 

I folded my trousers as Dorian sat gingerly on the bed. "What do you suppose this mattress is stuffed with?" 

"Are you sure you want to think too deeply on that?" 

"Probably not. I suppose we should be grateful it doesn't appear to be wood shavings." 

I climbed into the bed and tried to get comfortable. "I wouldn't be too sure about that. Are you planning on just perching on the side all night?" 

He sighed. "No, I shall put on a brave face and get in the bed properly. Do you suppose they hold some sort of arboreal rituals dedicated to their lumberjack god?" 

"Undoubtedly. We'll just have to hope this isn't _sacrifice some devastatingly handsome foreigners_ night." 

Dorian slid under the covers, thrashing about as he also attempted to find a comfortable position. "Is it just me, or is this bed short?" 

"It's short." 

"Lovely. Now I shall have to worry about stubbing a toe all night as well as the possibility that the mattress _is_ stuffed with wood shavings." 

"What's that noise out there anyway?" I was sure I heard something stealthy moving around. 

"I refuse to investigate and stumble upon their eons-old rituals. We should try to sleep." 

"I've never felt less like sleeping, but if I stay up I'm going to be unspeakably bored." 

"Exactly. And then you'll investigate that noise you heard and I shall have to rescue you just moments before Arvid the Ghastly Bear accepts your bound self as bait for his eldritch fishing trip." 

"All right, you've convinced me. Good night, Dorian." 

"Good night, amatus." 

We kissed and tried to get to sleep. It wasn't long before deep, even breaths signalled that Dorian had succeeded. I listened for any more out-of-place sounds, and at some point drifted off as well. 


	16. Back to Hasmal

I was awakened from a restless sleep far too early by Dorian groaning as he sat up. I discovered why moments later when I turned over to go back to sleep and my back clenched in a spasm of pain. I grunted and sat up too. 

"There is a slat of wood running across this bloody bed that intersected perfectly with the small of my back," Dorian growled. "This is not a bed. It's a cleverly disguised torture device." 

"Would've been better off on the floor," I said. "How does he bloody sleep in this thing?" 

"Diagonally? _Venhedis_ , I can't lie here another moment." Dorian matched action to words, groaning again as he stood. "Is my back dented? Because that's how it feels." 

"I don't know. My eyes aren't working yet," I grumbled. "How much you wanna bet the elf's gonna be well-rested and _perky_?" 

He was. He also cheerfully assumed we'd slept well. If he hadn't been making coffee when we walked out of the bedroom, I might have throttled him. He missed the poisonous look Dorian threw when he _chirped_ good morning at us, and it seemed to sail right over his head that both of us spent the first half hour answering everything with snarky sarcasm. It was probably for the best that he was utterly oblivious. 

Once we'd recovered enough to abandon random thoughts of murder, Dorian and I agreed we could see no reason to stay in Wildervale a moment longer and wanted to get on the road as soon as possible. I suggested to Cam that it might make more sense to store Fadik's things at my place in Hasmal and he agreed. He decided to accompany us back there to continue the search for her, and within an hour we were on the road out of Wildervale. 

I felt if we never saw the place again it would be too soon. 

On the way out of town I did make everyone stop for a few minutes while I went into the Town Hall. As I'd predicted, they had a large, bound volume of the collected Tales of Brod Banton and his mad bear Arvid that I purchased. (The clerk went from sullenly hostile to all smiles when I did.) 

I carried it out and secured it in a saddlebag, telling Dorian, "I couldn't resist." 

He laughed. "I knew you wouldn't be able to. If you hadn't given into temptation first, I may have had to buy it myself." 

"It's even better than I hoped," I said as we got underway again. "It's _illustrated_." 

The trip back to Hasmal was uneventful and we made good time again. To help stave off boredom I read a fair bit of Brod Banton's exploits aloud. If you were a true believer, the man was responsible for sculpting the majority of the Free Marches, but nowhere did it explain why the bear needed a fishing pole. 

"They are aware that bears are well known for their ability to catch fish with their paws, aren't they?" I complained. 

"So perhaps Banton rescued the only bear with no talent for fishing; I'm shocked there isn't a tragic but touching tale about it in the book," Dorian said. "Honestly, I don't see why you're so concerned." 

"I don't know. Maybe it was that idiotic statue. Something about it annoyed me and now it won't let go." I tried to put Arvid the Untalented Bear out of my mind.

_=#=_

Riding back into town reminded me of all the times I'd done so alone after trips to Tevinter during the year when Dorian was dragging his feet about simply letting everyone there know we're a couple so I could move in with him; I enjoyed that this time he was at my side. 

We reached my house and the first thing I saw upon entering was the envelope that had been slipped underneath the door. I recognized that envelope. 

"You've got to be kidding…" I muttered, moving out of the way as Cam and Dorian ferried Fadik's things into the house. I opened the cursed thing. 

"Oh for — Andraste's flabby, pox-covered arse!" 

Dorian dropped Fadik's greatsword on the couch and trotted up to me eagerly. "Whatever caused _that_ explosion?" 

"This." I brandished the letter at him. "Go ahead — read." 

He took it from me and read aloud:

_Dear Lord Trevelyan,_  
_It has come to our attention that while you own your property in Hasmal, and we have on record that said property is your primary address, for the past year (approximately) you have in fact been residing in Tevinter. Furthermore, during the period for which you are billing us, reports have placed you in Tevinter for significant lengths of time both before and after the billing period._

_Before we can in good faith extend payment to you, we will need evidence of your continued Free Marches citizenship. If, in fact, you have become a citizen of Tevinter, you would fall under the aegis of their Chantry and we are under strict agreements that neither Chantry shall interfere with the others' jurisdictions…_

"Maker, are they _serious_? You're not even a believer." 

"I was hired to do a job _which_ I did. It shouldn't make any bloody _difference_ where I live or what land I'm a citizen of. It's a fucking _contract_. I cannot believe the lengths these wankers are going to, to try and weasel out of paying me!" I took the letter back and read the rest of it to myself. 

"Who's weaselling out of what?" Cam asked. 

"The Chantry. They are the _cheapest_ bloody bastards I've ever set eyes on. They've sent _two_ copies of this same letter up to Tevinter; one to Minrathous and one to Qarinus. Probably to prove I'm twice as likely to be a Tevinter citizen and what the _fuck_ does that have to do with them owing me money?" 

"They just care, amatus. They don't want to step on the Black Divine's toes in case _he_ wants to pay you," Dorian said with a grin. 

"You know they'll probably take the cost of the two extra letters out of what they owe you," Cam added. 

"Probably," I agreed. "Dorian, you want to ding Sera and Dagna? I need to read this stupid thing again." 

Dorian dinged, and moments later their sending crystal made its alert noise. 

He activated it and Sera's voice came through (loudly). "Hey, you're back, yeah? You get what you needed from Woodsyville?" 

"It's Wildervale, but I think I like your name better," Dorian said. "We didn't find what we hoped for, we saw terrifying things, and now Kai's angry at the Chantry again." 

"I've passed through anger to an entirely new emotion," I corrected. "This might be what they're talking about when the words _divine wrath_ are bandied about." 

"If you do ascend to wrathful godhood, don't forget about your friends back here on this plane," Dagna chimed in. 

"Perhaps I'll create a new pantheon purely to smite the Chantry's accounting department; that way you can all join in," I said. 

"It's as good a reason to start a pantheon as any I've ever heard," Dorian said. 

"So are you gonna come over or are you just running back to Tevinter?" Sera shouted. 

"We'll come over," Dorian said. "That way you can stop shouting at us." 

We dropped the horses off at the stables and walked. 

"What are you planning to do now?" I asked Cam. "I don't see that there's much we can do aside from getting that Qunlat translated." 

He shrugged, frowning. "I guess I'll try to figure out what that other note means. Sorry I dragged you both down here for nothing." 

"I needed to come to Hasmal anyway," I said, waggling my left hand at him. 

"And I would not have believed that exquisite display of deplorable taste in the centre of Wildervale existed had we not seen it," Dorian added cheerfully. "I believe there are some people I may recommend the town to as a vacation spot." 

"Don't forget to tell them about the good fishing," I said. "Besides, Cam, we still might find something. I don't like the idea of Fadik being in danger any more than you do." 

"None of your mates here could translate that?" 

"Not that I'm aware of." 

"What about Mikal?" Dorian asked. "That woman's got more skills than she ever lets on. _Fasta vass,_ is that old man seriously wearing plaidweave _knee breeches_?" 

I agreed it was worth a shot as we reached Sera's place. Once again, she opened the door before we could knock. 

We made our way to the kitchen and took seats around their worktable. Cam was still looking glumly at the sheet of Qunlat he'd brought with him. 

"I wish we had more than one copy of this," he said with a sigh. 

I grinned and plucked the paper out of his hand. "I believe I can now accommodate you if our hosts have some extra paper." 

Sera handed me some, saying, "Whadda you need this for?" 

"We need copies. Now that I can feel what I'm doing, well, only Dorian knew this, but I spent two years of my life as a scrivener. I'm actually quite good at transcribing and making terrible writing look good. That sometimes included duplicating things in languages I didn't know." I started carefully copying the Qunlat. 

"When did you … scriven? Scrive? However you say it; so stupid," Sera asked. 

"When I was living in Ostwick," I said. 

Sera made a face as if she smelled something rotten. "So you just sat there writing shite down all day?" 

"Essentially, yes." Some of the characters were a little tricky to get right with my hand feeling half numb, but with a little extra concentration I was doing it nearly as well as I could before I'd lost my forearm. 

"And you _liked_ that?" 

"Well, after two years I'd gotten a little bored of it, but it wasn't bad." 

"Yech. Sometimes I really don't know about you, Harold." 

"Before you lose faith in him entirely, he also has a sideline making handheld crossbows frighteningly lethal," Dorian came to my rescue. 

She perked up at that. "Yeah? _How_ lethal?" 

"I can fire a bolt through your skull from twenty feet," I said as I tried to get an odd squiggly letter right, "and then the bolt will set your brain on fire." 

"It's that sort of romantic talk I found so irresistible," Dorian said. 

Sera ignored him. "Get out! With a mini-crossbow? You're having me on." 

"I'll show you before we leave. I've been working on them for nearly a year now. You know, I've found an actual advantage to the artificial arm — it's not tired. Normally I'd have to stop for a bit by now." 

While I worked, Dorian contacted Mikal on the sending crystal and explained our need to translate some Qunlat. She didn't know any herself, but promised to bring something that could help. 

When she showed up a half hour later, I'd finished and we were all in a spirited, meandering conversation about absolutely nothing of importance. It took another hour for us to get around to our mysterious scrap of paper, but when we did Mikal pulled a shabby-looking book out of the bag she'd brought with her. 

"What's that? How's it supposed to help us?" Cam asked. 

"This, my boy, is one of the most comprehensive Qunlat-to-Trade-Language dictionaries that exists," Mikal said. "There aren't many of them. I think the Qunari like having their own secret language." 

"More like they think we're too far beneath them," I said. 

"Shall we try to translate this thing of yours?" 

They weren't kidding about Qunlat being a hard language. The basics were easy enough to grasp, but we kept running into problems with things having multiple meanings depending on context, and Fadik hadn't been considerate enough to write everything out in full sentences. Mikal, Dorian and I must have spent an hour and a half on the bloody thing. Finally we decided we'd gotten as much of it as we were likely to. 

"So what's it say?" Cam said. 

"It appears to be a combination supply list and directions," Dorian said. 

"Directions to what?" 

"We're not sure," I said. "There's something about a back door or a back entryway or it could be an underground passage." 

"And it may or may not contain water," Dorian continued. "Going through it leads to someone. Or possibly to a kitchen." 

"Or something to do with cooking or transforming something into a finished product," I said. 

"There was definitely a note about _no sword_ ," Mikal said, "followed by the words _traps_ , so we feel safe in guessing something about her greatsword would trigger traps wherever she was going." 

"So she went willingly?" Cam said with dismay. "Why wouldn't she _tell_ me?" 

"Maybe she wanted to keep you out of danger," Mikal offered. 

"Yeah, but I'm her bloody _partner_." 

"Could be some Qunari thing," I said. "Maybe she knew you'd insist on going with her if she told you." 

"It does mean it's possible she's not missing at all; she just went to do this thing and she'll be back once she's done," Dorian said. 

"What's the whole thing say?" Cam scowled. 

I read aloud: _Something we assume is a name — papers; a list of gear, including climbing ropes, an ice axe and either three yards of velvet or maybe a velveteen carpet; a whirling boot-tree-_

"A _what_?" Sera said. 

"That was one of the bits that was defying translation." 

"If that _is_ what's required, I'd love to see where it fits in the scheme of things," Dorian added. 

I continued: _Something about going east…avoid the pillars or pylons…then the part about the back door/passage thingy; something something not the third uncle or alcove; always down; MAD centre is maze or labyrinth or puzzle-_

"So MAD might be a place," Cam said. 

"Or she thinks it's mad that they made it into a maze-puzzle thing," Sera said. 

"It's capitalized every time she writes it, so we're thinking place. There's a chunk next where she's used too bloody many abbreviations to even begin to suss it out, then the _no sword_ thing." 

"It ends with a few more supply notes, a reminder to contact someone whose first initial is R, and the Qunlat equivalent of _fuck someone named Aloren_ ," Dorian finished. 

"Fuck how?" Dagna asked. 

"Hm. Probably in the way that has everything to do with the mysterious Aloren begging for mercy and nothing to do with procreation," he said. 

"Well, that's all clear as mud," Cam grumped. 

I handed him a copy of our translation. "For what it's worth, here you go. If you like, you can use my place here as a base to work out of." 

Cam brightened. "Yeah? That'd be brilliant; thanks! I guess you and Dorian are going back to Tevinter then?" 

"I don't see that there's much we can contribute at this point. We'll keep working on it, but…" I shrugged. 

"I know." He sighed. "I can't blame you." 

"If you come up with anything and need our help, Sera and Mikal here both can contact us with sending crystals," I said. 

"I'm terribly curious about the whirling boot-tree," Dorian added. 

Mikal gave us the dictionary, saying she had another back at the shop, and I promised Cam I'd keep working on a better translation. 

We put the subject aside for the rest of the evening. I demonstrated my magically enhanced crossbows to everyone (both Mikal and Sera immediately declared they needed their own), then we played a new board game Dagna had acquired until far later than we'd intended. 

=#= 

Before we left for home, I reset the wards on my house to allow Cam free access and had keys made for him; after seeing his place in Wildervale I felt more confident that he wasn't likely to destroy mine. Well, that and he seemed honestly grateful and promised to take good care of everything. And I had other friends in town to keep an eye on him. 

I also stopped in to see Ademar and pay him his half for the amazing work he'd done on my arm (I'd settled with Dagna earlier), then bought far too many pastries, and assorted peace offerings for Swivet, from the bakery near my house. The room in which I kept my eluvian was quite a bit smaller than Dorian's, so we had to take the horses through one at a time, Dorian staying with them while I locked the door to the room behind me and warded it so no one but the two of us could unlock it. The ride back to Tevinter was mind-numbingly dull, without so much as a peep out of the local wildlife for once. By the time we stepped through the eluvian in Qarinus, both of us were eager to look at anything that wasn't grey. We handed the horses off to the stablehands and strolled the grounds for a while before heading into the house. 

I had to admit to Dorian that, while I still liked Hasmal, it was Tevinter that felt like home to me now. 


	17. Part 3: Qarinus

**_Home again - Updates_**

We had several days of calm after we returned from the south. The weather was in what I considered a tolerable range, though Dorian complained it was just chilly enough to not feel like summer. 

Swivet was angry with us for leaving him for days and we kept finding things he had strategically chewed. He didn't have much success with our heavy leather boots, but a few shirts and a pair of Dorian's indoor slippers all fell victim to our nug's revenge. 

I made sure to make extra time to play with him and include him in things I was doing, prompting Dorian to comment in treacly tones what a wonderful father I would have made. I responded that Swivet had been lonely, and once again broached the idea of a cat. 

Maevaris returned from a trip to Minrathous and spent an evening catching us up on the latest gossip. It was fairly quiet with so many magisters out of the city, but Minrathous never truly rests. Some magister who'd apparently been making noises about unseating Archon Radonis (in favour of himself, of course) suddenly found himself transferred to a tiny outpost in the middle of the Anderfels as Minrathous's new overseer. 

A sinkhole had opened in a street not far from the Merchants Quarter after the last big rain. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, due to each successive government choosing to patch infrastructure problems with shoddy materials held together with spells that were often never refreshed once they’d been cast. The only reason this one had been noticed was because the son of a senator happened to be directly on top of it when it gave out. The young man had managed to grab onto a piece of pipe and was pulled, scratched and bruised, from the abyss. His horse hadn’t been so lucky, as the hole had crumbled into a section of dwarven tunnels many feet below. It had taken the efforts of three mages to levitate the unfortunate creature’s corpse out of the jagged pit before it began to rot.

There'd been a minor riot over housing in one of the poor sections of the city that had been getting increasingly overcrowded of late as more people flooded into the city mistakenly thinking they'd be able to find work. 

Minrathous being an island as it is means there's only so much space to go around, so these riots had increased in frequency. The city government's answer was to herd a number of people into cattle carts, haul them to the mainland, and dump them after applying a short-term spell that gave them nausea and overwhelming fear if they entered the city limits. 

The problem was, they'd been completely indiscriminate about who they took, so some of those displaced individuals were citizens of the city who'd been born and raised there. Families of the local victims were furiously demanding their loved ones have the spell removed and be allowed to return, but so far the city fathers were dragging their feet. 

The Salvians had thrown another of their legendarily ghastly parties. This one had been held on the high, flat roof of their ballroom. The theme was "The Aerie" and they'd done the whole thing up like a bloody great bird’s nest. They'd also gotten in dozens of real birds of varying size with the idea that they would soar above the revellers and make use of the many perches erected throughout the 'nest'. What they hadn't considered is birds are very messy creatures, and don't much care what happens to be below when they choose to relieve themselves. 

A group of Qunari soldiers had been discovered in a tunnel below the city, along with an undisclosed number of _gaatlok_ bombs. They’d been executed and the bombs confiscated. 

And finally, a prominent Altus socialite had declared that green would be the dominant colour in high fashion this autumn, angering another socialite who'd already declared it would be teal. The ensuing magical battle when they'd encountered each other at a luncheon had resulted in a collapsed balcony, much broken crockery and half a dozen chafing dish injuries. 

After filling us in and hearing about our wilderness adventure, Mae insisted we go into the city for some proper entertainment. That turned into a three-day holiday followed by another day devoted to recovering from it (and making things up to Swivet again). 

The day after that, we agreed we should probably act at least slightly responsible. Dorian had a pile of correspondence to go through, and I needed to write a concise, pithy response to the Chantry's latest sorry attempt to avoid paying me. We set up in the library and I started writing. Dorian's stack of correspondence, on the other hand, sat there virtually untouched as he wandered deeper into the library chasing after a more interesting thought. 

And here's where I'll let Dorian take over, as the next part of the story is really his to tell. 


	18. Dorian - A Letter and a Meeting

~~

It's your favourite guest narrator again! (I really shouldn't start these with exclamation points every time, should I? They just convey a celebratory mood so well.) Once again, Kai has agreed I should step in, as I was there for this, and he wasn't. 

He was when it started, of course. We were in the library. 

I was supposed to be poring over a stack of letters that had been building on my desk, but I had an idea for a spell I wanted to craft and was looking through books trying to find out if anyone had done something similar. 

Kai was sitting at one of the reading tables, attempting to compose a letter to which the accountants in the Chantry's Grand Cathedral would pay attention, a feat as likely as finding a mage the Qunari would elect as their new spiritual leader. His cup of coffee was sitting directly on the table, which would have given poor Lucien fits had he seen it. 

I paused for a moment to watch him writing, his eyes flicking to check his left hand every few seconds in what had become an unconscious habit every time he was doing something with it. These days, it was virtually the only tell that the hand wasn't real. Even before he'd gotten his fancy upgrade that gives him a slight ability to feel changes in temperature and pressure, he'd taught himself to use his left hand with nearly as much facility as he'd had with the real one. I doubt anyone who didn't see it can appreciate the amount of determination it took to get to the point where it looks that effortless for him. At the risk of sounding trite, it's one of the qualities I love about him, the way he throws himself completely into things (venhedis, I just made myself laugh for all the wrong reasons with poor wording. I didn't mean to suggest he goes about flinging himself into random objects. Obviously this is a sign I should stop digressing). 

I'd returned to the book I was skimming when Lucien approached, carrying an envelope as though it was made of spun glass and sharp teeth. 

"Dominus Dorian? A letter for you. It's from the Archon." He held it out to me. 

I gave Lucien a bright smile as I took it. "The Archon? How nice of him to finally realize the one thing he's been lacking all these years is my sage advice." 

Kai set his pen down and spun his chair around. "What does the _Archon_ want with you?" 

"A meeting, according to this. He doesn't say why. I'm to meet him at his official residence in Qarinus tomorrow." 

"He couldn't wait until you were back in Minrathous?" 

"Apparently not." 

I tried to imagine what the Archon might want. Unless he wanted to personally tear into me for taking up with Kai publicly, I couldn't come up with anything. 

"This isn't about us, is it?" Kai said. 

"I've no idea. He doesn't say. I can assure you he didn't come to Qarinus to ask after my mother's rum cake recipe." 

Kai raised an eyebrow. "Which is?" 

"Very simple, really. Ingredients: one bottle of rum, one sponge cake. Throw cake across the room, — you get extra points for hitting servants or family members — drink bottle of rum." 

"I have relatives who would approve of that recipe." 

He flinched as Lucien noticed his coffee and snatched it off the desk, hissing _coaster, please_ at him while sliding a piece of paper under it. 

"Sorry, Lucien. I forgot." He watched Lucien stalk out of the room and said mournfully, "I really think he hates me, you know." 

"He doesn't hate you, amatus, he simply finds you vexing." 

I put my book away; spellcrafting could wait. 

"How am I vexing? I'm not _trying_ to be vexing; he just has a remarkable ability to show up right when I'm doing something that upsets him." 

"I think you're too southern. You confuse him." 

He squinted at me. "Too southern? What the bloody fuck is that supposed to mean?" 

"Well… _that_ ; what you just said. You've got a bit of that rough-around-the-edges quality. Don't worry — it's not your fault. You can't help that you came from barbarous lands." I gave him a benevolent smile. 

He looked down as though abashed and raised his eyes so they bored into me while an evil grin spread slowly across his face. "Awfully cheeky, aren't you? Remember, barbarians are also known to be unpredictable…even dangerous. Given to violent outbursts…" He let a few tendrils of electricity play about his right hand, knowing full well when he acts like that _things_ happen that bypass my brain entirely and start clamouring for attention. 

"You are playing dirty," I accused him. 

"Mm…I _could_ …" He stretched intriguingly then slouched back in his chair, pasting the blandest look possible on his face. "Or I could just go back to writing this blasted letter." 

"Just to be cruel, I should let you. I know how you adore communicating with the Chantry." 

He grunted and said, "If this meeting _is_ about us, what could he do? Kick you out of the Magisterium? Kick me out of Tevinter?" 

"He could certainly do the former. Remember, mere speculation over the trouble between Father and me forced Father to step down from his position on the Archon's consiliare. He could probably do the latter as well. I refuse to speculate further on this; it will just make me sleep badly and based on the hour he wants to meet, the Archon is a morning person." I fixed Kai with a stern glare. "Which, thanks to your corrupting influence, I no longer am." 

"Be fair — you never _really_ were. I just refined your natural proclivities." 

I pretended skepticism. "No, I have to insist on corruption. I was always a _mid_ -morning person. If it weren't for my iron determination, you'd have us never getting up before lunchtime." 

"I think better at night. It's not _my_ fault the rest of the world is so bloody-mindedly diurnal. We could stay overnight in town; that would at least get you closer," he suggested. 

"I approve of that idea, amatus. I knew there were other reasons I keep you around." 


	19. Dorian - Drinks with Radonis

~~

Increasing our proximity to my meeting wasn't enough to preclude my having to rise at an obscenely early hour. I forced myself out of bed, sparing a moment to direct a withering glare at Kai, who was blissfully asleep and unaware of my travails. Although I could never bring myself to go through with such a thing, there are times I understand why he simply shaves his head and only wears variations on black; his preparation time for even formal affairs is virtually nonexistent. 

When I'd finished preparing for the meeting, I did get compensated for all my effort with the sure knowledge that I looked properly magisterial, with an underlying _frisson_ of dashing roguishness about me that you just can't get without an artful mix of wardrobe and exquisite grooming (and taste, of course; some people's ideas on how to mix colours and fabrics with accessories is nothing short of tragic). 

I'd chosen a pair of tailored trousers that looked black at first glance, but were in reality a shade of deepest blue. My boots were high and black with silver chasing because one needs something a bit more traditional when meeting with the Archon. The shirt was deep blue silk with a royal blue jabot embroidered with subtle patterns in silver and gold that had been spelled to shimmer slightly when one moved. Over that was a fitted black waistcoat-vest, exquisitely embroidered with an abstract pattern based on traditional Tevinter symbology. In deference to the heat of summer, I'd dispensed with an over cloak or cape. 

I returned to our room (at a very nice inn right by the Archon's Qarinus headquarters) long enough to put away my grooming equipment and pick up the few things I needed to take with me. Kai was, of course, still doing his best impression of an inanimate object, but I didn't resent him as much for it now. I girded my loins (figuratively; I can't say that I go in much for loin-girding as a sport), stiffened my upper lip (also figuratively) and ventured forth to bravely confront my destiny. 

Or to inject some realism into the narrative, I walked across the street, was permitted into the Archon's compound, went where they pointed, and spent the next half hour waiting in a plushly decorated antechamber on a chair that had no doubt been deliberately constructed to be uncomfortable. 

Finally a slim, dark-haired man around Kai's age emerged from a side door. He had nervous eyes and his hairline was dancing on that fine edge between receding and _for pity's sake, just shave it_. 

I recognized him, of course — Alectius Sevanus, the Archon's secretary-slash-apprentice. He was wearing businessy trousers and a close-cut shirt with low, soft boots all in a rich but uninteresting shade of brown and a long jacket with a bewildering array of pockets that was mostly deep green with a gold pattern of crosshatching woven through it. Sadly, the combination made him look rather like a badly-trimmed shrubbery. 

He consulted one of the ever-present notes in his hand and said, "Magister Pavus? The Archon will see you shortly. Please follow me." 

He escorted me down a short hallway. I considered saying something amusing, but Alectius exists in a persistent cloud of self-important preoccupation that precludes amusement. We entered a large office with a spectacular view of the waterfront courtesy of the famous one-pane floor-to-ceiling window (if it had any magnification abilities, they weren't in use). 

The room was dominated by a magnificent obelisk of a desk that could probably house a dwarven family with room to spare. It was matte black with glossy highlights. Skulls, dragons and magic sigils were the predominant motif, all carved with loving care and finished with a subtle enchantment that made it seem as though they were moving when you weren't looking at them. It was a fiendishly clever way to keep anyone in front of the desk feeling slightly off-balance. 

On the far side of the room was a friendlier collection of sleek armchairs placed around a low, round ironwood table that had been polished to such a degree that I couldn't imagine how anything would dare touch it. The chair Alectius indicated I should take was squarely in front of the desk. 

I waited again, though this time the chair was comfortable and there was at least something to look at. I was stifling a yawn when a discretely placed door off to my right opened and Archon Radonis strode in. 

He's a tallish, angular man with blue eyes, dark hair, what Sera would no doubt call magey eyebrows — thick and rising to a point before descending again — and a beard that's been sculpted to descend smoothly from his chin to fork at the end into two small, perfectly curved points somewhere near the base of his neck. When he's going formal, he opts for grand costumes with flamboyant headwear that make him look taller and more imposing than he actually is (though no one would say it to his face, the one he'd been sporting lately resembled nothing so much as a manta ray that had somehow gotten lost and starched onto a hat). 

Today he was in his working clothes — a lush ensemble of midnight blue with deep burgundy piping in a modified military cut. Knee-high kid leather boots in cream with black dragons twining around them (literally — the dragons had been spelled to appear to be twining around the boots) completed the look. I rose and gave him the correct bow for the occasion. 

"Magister Pavus," he said with a terse nod. 

"Archon." 

I waited for him to instruct our next move, as protocol demanded. 

"Let's go to the informal meeting area, shall we?" 

He led the way to the sleek armchairs and I breathed a purely mental sigh of relief. He could, of course, just as easily rain destruction on me from an armchair, but it was the tiniest bit less likely. We sat, and an elven slave — her clothing matched the colour of the carpet — appeared from another discretely placed door, bearing a tray laden with a carafe and two glasses. I watched her place it on the table with a degree of fascination, half expecting the table to repel this assault on its pristine surface with wooden fury. She poured the drinks and disappeared through the side door. 

The Archon took a sip and indicated I should as well. It turned out to be a light, sparkling wine of no doubt exquisite vintage. 

"You're wondering why I've asked you here." He didn't frame it as a question. 

"Naturally, Archon." I tried to sound pleasantly interested. 

"I've heard things about you lately. It would appear you've been stirring things up in the Magisterium." 

"The Lucerni-" 

He waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, I know all about your Lucerni. For the time being I shall withhold comment; that is not what this meeting is about." 

_So much for a spirited political debate_. I waited for him to continue, trying to convey polite expectancy. 

He took a delicate sip of his drink, eyes boring into me over the rim of his glass. "I expect you know what I'm referring to." 

"If not the Lucerni, I expect it would be my…living arrangements." 

He gave me a little, sardonic toast with his glass and set it down. "Diplomatically put. You know you outraged quite a few people, refusing to play our age-old game just to — as I believe you've said — stay true to yourself. Or selfishly indulge your own whims, as your naysayers put it." 

"I didn't do it as a childish way to nettle the Magisterium," I said, careful to keep my tone respectful. He was acting friendly enough, but I was well aware that every moment I spent in that room I was skating on thin ice. 

"I know that. You were giving Halward fits long before you decided to go public with this revolutionary stance of yours. Nevertheless, there was an element within the Magisterium — indeed, among the Altus in general — that were screaming for your head." 

He paused, giving me an inscrutable look. 

I wondered if I was supposed to say something, and if so, what in the world that something was supposed to be. I took a decorous sip of my own drink and settled on, "Not entirely unexpected, I'm sad to say." 

"Quite. It may interest you to know that I wouldn't allow them go after you as they desired." 

Of all the things he might have said, I did not expect that. However, one does not show surprise or any other honest emotion in Tevinter society if one wishes to survive long-term. So I inclined my head respectfully and said, "Thank you, Archon. I appreciate that." 

He smiled thinly. "As well you should. As you may suspect, my reasons for doing so were not entirely altruistic. I shall ask you the same question I asked my secretary: why do we have this age-old stricture against people like yourself marrying the gender you're actually attracted to?" 

"It interferes with the breeding of new, more powerful mages," I answered without hesitation. 

"Precisely. I think Halward may have had some concern that you would effectively end House Pavus as well, but in the grand scheme of things Tevinter does not care if specific noble houses rise and fall. The job of every one of us is to keep improving and adding to the bloodline, yes?" 

"Absolutely." 

"I am, however, willing to overlook your lapse in this respect because technically, you _have_ done your part." 

He watched. I'm convinced under that beard he looked amused. 

I tried to fathom how he came up with that. "I'm not quite sure I follow," I confessed. "I _am_ quite sure I've never gotten a woman in a family way." 

"No, I imagine not." He gave me a delighted smile that sent chills down my spine. "And yet, you've produced a powerful, gifted mage for us!" 

_I'm beginning to appreciate why Kai wants nothing more to do with politics. If-_ and it dawned on me. 

"Kai?" 

"You _are_ quick-witted," he said. "Understand — had you chosen some average lumpish southerner, I may have sided with your detractors; your pedigree is much too fine to allow it to go to waste." 

_Woof_ , I thought, then thought that was a very Kai thing to think. 

"However!" He continued, "You brought us Kai Trevelyan, the Inquisitor himself! Not only a mage with the kind of power we all pray our children will have, but a man who excels at diplomacy and strategy as well as possessing some unique talents one simply can't teach." 

_He's also a very good dancer_ , I thought but didn't say. 

"There's just one thing," the Archon said, as though an afterthought had occurred to him. 

"Archon?" 

"I could be persuaded to not just tolerate this union of yours, but publicly condone it.”

He paused again, his mien changing from beneficent to malicious in a heartbeat. 

“Or I could tear you apart. I'll leave it to you to decide whether I mean that literally or figuratively.” 

Aaaand back to an avuncular smile.

“All you have to do to make the former happen is _make_ your man an asset to Tevinter. Otherwise I'd be lying about my reasons for endorsing you." 

"How would you suggest we go about that?" I said pleasantly, thinking _I didn't notice the rest of his ensemble: iron fist, velvet glove._

"Hm. Let me ask you something else. When you were sent south as our ambassador to their Exalted Council a few years ago, why do you think you were selected?" He looked at me with an expression of cheerful, bright-eyed interest that was more unsettling than reassuring. Cheeriness didn't sit well on his face. 

I considered my answer and decided to throw caution to the winds and tell the truth. "When I was told, I assumed it was punishment." 

He cocked his head to one side, still projecting terrifyingly good-natured interest. "Whyever would you assume it was a punishment? Punishment for what?" 

"I assumed the usual. Disappointingly not living up to expectations. Staying down south rather than returning to Tevinter. Abandoning familial duties to stay with the — clearly male — Inquisitor." I gave him an angelic look back. 

His brows drew together. "So you imagined that to punish you for remaining in the south with your Inquisitor, we would send you south to remain with your Inquisitor? I think you have an unclear idea how punishments work." 

"I was thinking more along the lines that the Fereldens and Orlesians would be more likely to heed the words of a rabid darkspawn than listen to anything Tevinter might have to say." 

He smiled a small, smug smile. "Then you also lack understanding of how relations work between our countries. Orlais and Ferelden may put on a great public show of discounting Tevinter, but behind closed doors they heed us with great attentiveness. Tevinter may not be the power we once were, but make no mistake — we are still a power that cannot be safely dismissed. They also know very well that we are the main bastion standing between them and the Qun." 

I inclined my head in acknowledgement. "And therein lies the other reason I assumed it must have been punishment. While I possess many talents and skills, I never counted professional diplomacy among them, so by sending me the Imperium would be showing just how little they cared about the Exalted Council and discounted the importance of the Inquisition." 

"That is one possible interpretation, perhaps even one we would have enjoyed fostering." 

He definitely sounded amused; I bit down on the temptation to say something to the effect of being pleased he found me so entertaining. "Did _you_ think we discounted the importance of the Inquisition?" 

"No, but I was reasonably sure it wouldn't matter. Even before I came up here before the Council, I knew Kai wanted out. I didn't know he was going to disband the entire thing, but did know they were going to lose their Inquisitor, probably sooner than later." 

"Yet you didn't impart that information to anyone." 

"At the time it would have been informed speculation on my part. He could have changed his mind while I was gone. In any case, as the Council had precious little to do with Tevinter, I expected I was primarily there to be able to provide a first-hand account of what occurred. I'll add I did change my mind about it being a punishment." 

"And what next did you decide?" 

"After Father was assassinated, I thought it likely I was sent south to get me out of harm's way." 

"Protecting the last scion of House Pavus, eh?" 

Not long ago I would have felt compelled to respond to that, but I have learned the odd thing watching Kai deal with powerful, dangerous people over the years, and knew this was one of those moments when he'd opt for no response as the best response. I simply raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. 

The smile he gave me this time was as small as the last, but more genuine. "Did it once occur to you that we may have thought you were the best man for that job?" 

I noticed he kept saying _we_ and filed that away for future consideration. "Honestly? No." 

"Then as I am sure Kai would tell you, you sell yourself short. Considering your relationship not only with him, but everyone else in the top echelons of the Inquisition, you were in the unique position of being the one Tevinter those people might listen to. Would it not then behoove us to make use of that fact?" 

For a brief yet jarring moment, I actually found myself speechless. It truly had not occurred to me, even though as he said it, it sounded perfectly logical. 

"That is an aspect of the appointment I had not deeply considered," I said smoothly, "It's certainly sound reasoning." 

"Then you would allow that my sound reasoning may persist even at this late date?" 

"Without question, Archon." 

"So you'd allow I am correct when I say you may in fact possess skills that would make you ideal for an ambassadorial position in some circumstances despite not being specifically trained in that profession?" 

"In some circumstances, certainly." 

"Wonderful. That brings us neatly to today." 

_Ye gods_ , I thought, _you certainly took the scenic route_. 

He sipped his drink and gave another of those hard stares he'd perfected. "There are things you and Kai could do for us. People that need to be talked to in situations that need to be addressed. You know and care about Tevinter. Kai has a natural ability to negotiate and cares about _you_. All you need to do is convince him to help Tevinter occasionally. As this _is_ his adopted country, I don't see why that would be problematical." 

"You do know he walked away from politics," I hazarded. 

"We know about that and a great deal more. Surely you don't think we let the Inquisition all but usurp southern Thedas without looking into all of their top people…or should I say all _you_ top people?" 

"Of course not. Then you also know he doesn't like to be pushed." 

"I don't see it as a push; more of a nudge. And since you'll be the one nudging him, I don't imagine there will be a great deal of resistance. Think of it as his citizenship requirement. If you're to be released from the obligation to reproduce, you'd bloody well better see that the prize you brought us contributes." 

The look he gave me made it clear this was not negotiable. 

The thing is, I understood his position and, while it would make us beholden to him, I could see ways in which we could turn it to our advantage. I'd just have to hope that Kai could see the same thing. 

"Of course, Archon. It's a perfectly reasonable request and I'm sure given that it would only be occasional, Kai would be delighted to help." 

"See to it that he is, Magister Pavus," he said in a cold, flat tone that was probably the most honest he'd used since he walked into the room. 

Just as abruptly, he returned to being Friendly Uncle Radonis. "I'm pleased you understand my stance on this. Alectius will be in touch with you soon, as there is a small problem we could use your specialized sort of help with. I will, of course, be monitoring your progress and success." 

He drained his glass and stood, so I followed suit. 

"So pleased we had this opportunity to talk, Dorian. You know, I liked your father very much. I shall look into drafting an official statement concerning your relationship; perhaps we could even make a proviso for others like you that they may also choose their partners so long as said partner can contribute to Tevinter in a meaningful way." 

"That's most generous of you, Archon." 

One eyebrow arched just enough to make the pointy part of it look _very_ pointy. He probably practiced in the mirror for days to get it to do that. "Yes, it is. _Vitae benefaria_ , Magister Pavus." 

" _Vitae benefaria_ , Archon." 

I left out the main door; Alectius was right there to escort me back to the antechamber. Once there, he rifled importantly through his notes for a moment before looking up at me. 

"As the Archon said, I shall be in touch. You're not planning on going anywhere, are you?" 

"It appears not." I allowed a tinge of sarcasm to colour my comment. Alectius didn't notice. 

"Good. I or an agent will contact you. Don't worry, this first operation will be relatively simple. You may go now." 

"It's been a delight, Alectius. I always enjoy our little chats." 

I left him squinting at me in confusion. 

_(I now return you to your regular narrator until such time as he desperately needs my services again.)_

~~


	20. Debriefing

By the time Dorian returned from his meeting, I'd been up long enough to get myself in order and have coffee delivered to our room. 

I was on my second cup when he walked in and threw himself on the bed, announcing, " _Venhedis_." 

"It went well, then?" 

He pushed himself up on his elbows. "All things considered, yes. One might even say the Archon was in a jolly mood. Which is rather like the difference between swimming in a tank with a shark or a _smiling_ shark." 

"You may as well tell me all the gory details." 

"Is there any more of that coffee? I feel like I could use some about now." 

"Yes, but there's no sugar. I didn't ask for any." 

"Ugh. You know what? I'll drink it black." 

"Now I _am_ worried." 

I poured him a cup as he levered himself off the bed and took the other chair. "Are you still a Magister? Am I banished? What fresh hell is about to be visited upon us?" 

"You remember how I was surprised we didn't meet more outright hostility after I announced our status as a couple? _Fasta vass_ , how do you stand this stuff?" 

"It's an acquired taste. You'd be surprised how quickly you'll think sugar tastes ghastly in it. And, yes I remember." 

"We have the Archon to thank for that." 

I gave that a moment of thought. "That's…probably not as good as it sounds. He's not known for forward thinking and social sensitivity, is he?" 

Dorian barked a laugh. "No," and recounted their conversation. 

"What worried me most was what Alectius said at the end: 'This _first_ operation will be relatively simple'." 

"Lovely," I said sourly. 

"I did warn you there were likely to be consequences, though I admit I didn't foresee this." He drank more coffee, made a face and got up to top off his cup. 

"Well, it could be worse. At least he considers me valuable enough to bend the rules." 

"Oh, he made it quite clear that your particular credentials had everything to do with his decision. Even if he extends this newfound benevolence to other couples, I guarantee it will only apply if both parties are mages, and powerful ones at that." 

I shrugged. "Not surprising, really. This _is_ Tevinter, after all. I don't suppose he mentioned giving us the option to turn down jobs we find objectionable." 

"He neglected to offer any such option. Nor did he offer any other details concerning how this will work. I suppose that will be Alectius's job. Are you all right with this, amatus? He couched it in terms of us, but you and I both know this is about conscripting you to work for Tevinter." 

"Well, you're already a Magister; you can't get much more _working for Tevinter_ than that. I don't see that I have much choice in the matter, do I?" 

"…No." Dorian sighed. 

"I thought as much. I'm actually okay with it. Mostly. Even though I don't much like the sugar-coated 'do it or else' manner it's been put to us."

The funny thing was, I really was mostly okay with it. I’d known one way or another, my move to Tevinter wasn’t likely to be free of consequences. It had always been a matter of _when_ and _how_ , rather than _if_ I’d be expected to pay the price for that choice. Considering Dorian’s status as a Magister, it would be hypocritical of me to get on my high horse about working for Tevinter. Getting noticed by people like Radonis was always dangerous, but there were worse elements out there. Being sanctioned by the government gave us a degree of protection, and I’d found in my days as a world leader that there were many ways to work the established system to one’s advantage. 

"And once again you manage to surprise me," he said with a soft laugh. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with politics anymore." 

"I don't, but if I'm interpreting him correctly, what I'm expected to do is exactly what I'm best at: go into a volatile situation, assess it, and try to negotiate the best possible outcome for our interests. Then I get to go home and leave the actual politicking to people who enjoy it." 

"You left out the part about killing monsters and assorted thugs." 

I gave him a sardonic smile. "I was rather hoping we might skip that bit this time around. The only thing that concerns me is what I'm going to be expected to negotiate. I sure as fuck don't want to be responsible for setting up a more lucrative channel for the slave trade, for instance." 

"I'm sure the Archon knows your feelings on that sort of thing. Whether he cares is another story." He raked a hand through his hair and immediately smoothed it again. "So, if you're going to be all sanguine and philosophical about this, I shall as well. Considering what he could have done, we're getting off easy. I must admit, when you drink this black it has a sort of bitter bite I could get used to." 

"I'll convert you yet," I said with a smirk. "You know, he was right about one thing — you do sell yourself short. I didn't think for one moment that you'd been appointed ambassador as a punishment or a slight to Orlais." 

He looked bemused as he said, "I suppose I can also admit there are times I may have invested a modicum too much in my self-image as a pariah. It's not easy to give up, you know." 

"I understand, but I really think you've outgrown it. Like it or not, people _listen_ to you now — and they should. Remember, even during the Exalted Council you had people treating you seriously as Tevinter's ambassador. _They_ didn't think it was a joke. The only one who did was you." 

He raised his arms over his head and stretched until his shoulders cracked. "Ow, that feels better. One would think you're saying he expects me to do more than get you in to see these people then step back and let you work your magic. Um, unmagically speaking." 

"Maybe he does." I looked him in the eyes. " _I_ expect you to. I think we could work very well together. You're just as well-spoken as I am and you know Tevinter inside and out. I know how to persuade and you know how to smooth the way. There are also times when just by being yourself, you can draw attention away from me." 

"Of what benefit is that?" he asked. 

"If they underestimate me, all the better. You use that ploy all the time." 

"Which means they may underestimate both of us," he said with a slow smile. 

"Exactly. Not to mention, the Archon may be accidentally doing you a favour." 

Dorian squinted at me. "A favour? How so?" 

"To accomplish what you and Mae — and I too, now — want to accomplish, you need to get very fucking good at negotiating with some very scary people. You're also going to need a lot of friendly contacts. You're already adept at dealing with powerful lunatics and now he's dropped a way to practice the rest — and build a network of contacts —right into your lap, if he intends to use us to keep problem areas of Tevinter in line." 

He sipped his coffee. "I love how you assume I'm going to be good at this." 

"I know you will. There's a good chance there'll be times you'll have to handle the bulk of whatever they want negotiated, so you'd best wrap your mind around it." 

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you planning on abandoning me so I can learn?" 

"No, but believe it or not, not everyone likes me." I gave him a crooked smile. "If we get someone who doesn't, you'll have to deal with them." 

"They're politicians and diplomats. They're _paid_ to deal with people they don't like," Dorian objected. 

"Sometimes people get strange about incredibly stupid things. To this day the two oddest I had were the woman who announced _all bald men are unreliable_ and the fellow who threw an apoplectic fit because I'm left handed. Neither one of them would have a thing to do with me and all _that_ was about was writing some documents for them. If we get something like that, it'll be up to you to jolly them into doing what we want." 

"You're looking _forward_ to this," he accused me. 

"No, not really, but we're stuck doing it, so I'm trying to think of the ways we can work it to our advantage." 

"I was thinking the same, but it's good to hear you agree. I love the way your mind works when you look for creative solutions. Gah, that was far too early to get up," he said around a stifled yawn. "I would suggest you may not want to mention this to your family. Your father practically had an aneurysm just because you moved up here; I doubt he'd react well to the news you've become an agent for Tevinter." 

"Agent or fixer, do you think? I'm hoping it'll be more in the realm of fixer. But you're right — Father considers me a traitor just for _living_ here. He'd probably disown me completely if he knew about this, even though I can legitimately say I had no choice in the matter." 

Dorian raised an eyebrow at me. "Allow me to channel a future version of your father for one moment: _No choice? You bloody well do have a choice — you can leave Tevinter and that Vint of yours can follow you if he loves you as much as you claim he does."_

I laughed. "That's uncannily accurate. Fortunately, they don't really know what I do, so as long as no one tells them it shouldn't be an issue. Tell me, do you want to head back home now, or go out and make the time you put into picking out those clothes worth it?" ( _Like I didn't know what the answer would be_.) 

"Amatus, I _owe_ it to the people of Qarinus to allow them to see me. I'm surprised you even need to ask." 


	21. Interlude (4)

It was a fine place to dine. Nothing ever tried to interfere with the owl's meals there. After that first time, it felt safe to bring them to the flat stone depression. He wasn't sufficiently introspective (or — let's be honest — sufficiently intelligent) to wonder where the idea came from; it simply was. So if he was near enough, he brought his kills there to consume and always dined at the same spot — near the small, dark depression that held something that was not water. The blood from his meals trickled into and joined with the liquid. The owl never noticed. 


	22. The First Assignment

The week following Dorian's meeting with the Archon was…not nerve-racking exactly, but annoying. We were waiting for Alectius to show up while trying not to overthink what we might be asked to do. It made for a constant undercurrent of tension both of us felt. 

I spent a great deal of time working on spells to make my little crossbows increasingly lethal and Dorian enthusiastically joined me in both testing them and crafting new spells to imbue them with the sort of magical intensifiers that staffs hold. He left the strengthening spells to me; that sort of spellcrafting bores him, as it involves a lot of painstaking work bonding the magic with wood and laminates. I'm not crazy about it myself, but watching a bow that would normally be hard pressed to generate enough force to do much more than bruise a city pigeon five paces away fire a bolt clean through a pig's skull at twenty paces made the effort worth it. 

The tension kept us keyed up enough to forsake purely sedentary activities like reading in favour of endless rounds of cards and board games. During the day we spent a lot of time outside, usually accompanied by Swivet, who was in nug heaven with all the attention he was getting. Nights, aside from the games, we had frequent and enthusiastic sex; it was both happily distracting and worked off that underlying tension (so I can't in all honesty say the waiting was _all_ bad), at least until we woke wondering if _this_ was going to be the day Alectius arrived. 

The day he did was dull and overcast. Dorian had to come fetch me as I was still in bed (he came equipped with a large mug of coffee, bless him). It only took me a matter of minutes to pull on some clothes and put on my arm, and if I happened to be unshaven and somewhat uncommunicative, well, that's what he got for showing up too damned early. 

Alectius was seated at the table in the small dining room with a shiny leather satchel on the table in front of him, sipping a cup of tea that smelled cloyingly of sugared flowers. Dorian was talking animatedly about the latest gossip coming out of Minrathous, sounding vacuous enough that I knew he was doing it purely to annoy the officious little man. 

Alectius saw me and said, "Ah, Lord Trevelyan. Now we may begin." 

"Kai," I said with a grunt as I took a seat across from Dorian. 

"I beg your pardon?" 

"My name is Kai. Please use it. I'm not awake enough to be lord anything yet." 

"Of course." He sniffed. "I apologize for disturbing you; I was not aware of the hours you normally keep." 

"I'm surprised that wasn't in one of your files on me." I drank coffee and wondered if that was pushing it too much. There was something about the man that made me _want_ to be rude; it was the same problem I'd had with Mother Giselle when I was in the Inquisition. 

"Do you require more time before we begin?" He somehow contrived to look down his nose at me without seeming to. 

"No, go ahead. I'm sure I can follow along." 

"Kai's not a morning person," Dorian informed him with round-eyed innocence. 

He gave us a narrow glare. "Quite." 

He opened the satchel with an efficient snap. "Well, then. I've assembled the information the Archon wishes you to peruse concerning this initial task." 

"Excuse me, Alec," I said. 

"That's Al _ec_ tius," he corrected, "or Magister Sevanus. What is it?" 

"You said this _initial_ task. How many tasks should we be expecting?" 

"I'm sure I don't know. The Archon did not choose to impart that information. I assume you shall be assigned as the need for your…talents…arises. Now, these are your information packets." He handed us each a folder stuffed with papers. 

I opened mine, filled with wonderment that the man actually compiled _information packets_. There was a map, some pages of neatly written notes, and small, carefully inked portraits of a handful of people. 

"If you will consult your maps? The Archon requires that you travel to the city of Castra Nicia. As you can see, it is at the extreme northern tip of Tevinter, some hours away from Minrathous. I trust I do not need to explain to you the strategic importance of maintaining a presence there." 

The city was at the tip of the peninsula that extends into the area where the Nocen Sea becomes the Colean Sea. From there one could keep an eye on both Seheron and any force that might try to make its way from the Colean Sea towards Minrathous. We both nodded; its importance was obvious. 

"Castra Nicia is a prefecture; its prefect is Servius Maltho — if you'll refer to your portraits." 

We referred. Maltho appeared to be a heavyset man aged somewhere between thirty and fifty. He had thick lips and sleepy eyes, if the artist was accurate. 

"Is he a mage?" Dorian asked. 

"Barely," Alectius said. "Magically speaking, he's not much more than a hedge wizard, but his aunt is Magister Caecia Asprenus, so he got his prefecture. In the eleven years he's been there, he's been a competent if unambitious leader, which is precisely what is needed. He compiles his observation reports and sends them to Minrathous every fortnight. In case of emergency, he has a sending crystal keyed to my office. We have never had any trouble with him or the area." 

"Until now," I said. 

Alectius pressed his lips together and nodded stiffly. "Until now. Rather than our expected bi-weekly report, his last delivery contained nothing but a note stating that Castra Nicia was hereby cutting ties with Minrathous and no further communications would be forthcoming. You have copies of it." 

"They must have sent someone to investigate," Dorian said. 

"Naturally." 

"So did they come back in pieces or not at all?" I asked. 

"The latter. Neither did the people we sent to investigate the disappearance. I'm sure you can appreciate that we need to discover what's happening as well as ensure Castra Nicia is secure for Tevinter. Both parties we sent to investigate were career diplomats. The Archon feels this situation requires people with expertise in more than diplomatic arenas." 

"And that's where we come in," Dorian finished. 

"Quite. It is far too early to send in troops, but we need people who have experience in…abnormal situations, who are able to make informed, clear-headed decisions in less-than-ideal circumstances and, if need be, are also able to prevail in a combat situation. We do not know what we are up against. It may be nothing more than a prefect who's foolishly attempting to establish sovereignty, but what intelligence we have gathered points to something more…I dislike having to use this word, but _sinister_ is the best descriptor. You may refer to your notes for a more complete overview." 

"How long do we have to prepare?" I asked, leafing through the papers. 

"As you shall already have a sea voyage during which you may read and discuss the information I've provided, we've taken the liberty of hiring a ship. It shall depart from Qarinus in two days' time. I trust that is sufficient." Alectius closed his satchel with another efficient _snap_. 

"Will you be accompanying us, Alectius?" Dorian asked sweetly. "After all, we may have further questions that only you can answer before we arrive there." 

"Alas, my duties demand that I remain close to the Archon. We will provide you with a sending crystal should you need to contact us." His _alas_ was as sincere as an Orlesian promise of undying loyalty. 

"What about backup?" I said. "Under normal circumstances we'd have at least one or two other people on our team to cover all exigencies." 

"If we wanted to send in _teams_ again we would have done so already," Alectius said, pursing his lips. "It was our understanding that you were experts and would be able to handle a _situation_ without alerting possible adversaries that you are anything more than another set of diplomats." 

"I have yet to see a diplomat who travels without retainers," Dorian said. 

"And were this a normal diplomatic mission, we would allow you your backup. It isn't. Should it prove necessary, we will have troops nearby, but it is imperative you appear harmless. For the purposes of this visit, you, as a Magister, are the ambassador. If there is nothing more untoward going on, this will make Maltho feel important. _Kai_ —" He shot me a poisonous look. "—will be playing the role of your second and retainer; as far as they're concerned, he _is_ your backup. Again, under normal circumstances if we were trying to keep this low-key, that would be standard procedure." 

"And this is our test mission so you want to see how we perform on our own, right?" I said. 

"I cannot pretend to know what motivations may pass through the Archon's mind," Alectius said. 

Dorian and I exchanged cynical looks. 

"In other words — correct," Dorian said. 

"What's the weather like?" I asked. 

"Everything you might need to know is in your information packet," Alectius said. "Weather, local geography, top players in what passes for their political hierarchy, history, and a tentative list of their best eateries. They only have one inn of note — The _Lamplighter_ — so no others are listed. If you need any specialized equipment, contact me tomorrow and we'll have it waiting for you on the ship. I believe that is all for the time being, gentlemen." 

He reached into one of the many pockets on his coat (it was a tacky green thing that probably cost him a fortune) and pulled out a sending crystal, which he set on the table. "You may use this to contact me. Do not lose it. The name and location of the ship as well as your departure time are all in your information packet. I'll see myself out. Good day." 

He strode importantly away. 

I laughed quietly. "Is he always like that?" 

"Oh, normally he's much worse. You caught him on a _good_ day." Dorian grinned. "So it appears you got your wish — we are fixers." 

"Is it awful if I admit I'm kind of looking forward to this?" 

"It is rather intriguing," Dorian said as he looked through his papers. "I could wish for another person or two to accompany us in the event that things do get combative. What do you suppose his concept of _close_ is in regards to those troops?" 

"Check your information packet," I deadpanned. 

"I was thinking we should make liberal use of the sending crystal; let dear Alectius feel he's needed." 

" _You_ should. I'm afraid to talk to him." 

"Whyever for?" 

"He has the same effect on me that Mother Giselle did. I had enough trouble controlling myself around her. I don't know that I'd be as successful with Alectius." 

"Is that why you were _slouching_ so?" Dorian looked pleased at the thought. 

"Probably," I admitted. "I wonder if they're even entertaining the thought that there could be anything up to a small invading force there." 

"The information packet doesn't say?" 

"Not unless it's hidden in footnotes somewhere." 

Dorian smoothed his moustache. "Those crossbows of yours may come in handy a great deal sooner than I expected. I believe I should applaud your enthusiasm for embracing non-magical weaponry." 

"Providing said weaponry has been magically enhanced," I said. 

"Well yes, there's no need to go foolishly purist about it." 


	23. A Recipe for Dorian

I had to give Alectius credit — those information packets were impressively thorough. They gave the layout of the city and surrounding areas, names and pictures of important people, a comprehensive history of the area including up-to-date speculation on everything from political direction to imminent threats, a list of restaurants and shops and yes, the weather. The only thing that _wasn't_ known was what was going on there since Prefect Maltho cut off communications. 

I had Dorian contact Alectius and put in an order for crossbow bolts. I figured I could magically enhance them while we were en route. Dorian was of a mind that he needed new armour and was miffed that Alectius hadn't left enough time for some to be made. I advised him to put in an order now for whatever assignment the Archon came up with next. That mollified him, as the annoyed Alectius couldn't turn him down _and_ he was getting new armour out of the deal. 

We spent much of the next day theorizing what could be going on in Castra Nicia while we brushed up on combat spells that hadn't seen much use in the last year. We agreed the most likely culprit was the Qunari. After that it could be anything from mass hysteria to ensorcellment by yet another mad, ancient demigod, since we'd gone months without another one arising. 

Swivet caught on to the fact that something was up and refused to leave my side; he kept trying to crawl onto my lap whenever I sat down for any length of time. It made me feel terribly guilty and I probably fussed over him more than was strictly necessary. I think Dorian was somewhat put out that our nug was clinging so insistently to me, given he and Swivet had grown fond of each other since we moved to Tevinter. 

As our time of departure grew closer, Dorian grew increasingly morose. I came upon him disconsolately folded into one of the big armchairs in the games room and asked what in the world was bothering him so much. 

"Sailing," he said with a heartfelt groan. 

"You survived sailing here from Minrathous," I said. "What's the difference?" 

"I checked. There might be weather. Every time weather has collided with a ship I was on, I spent the majority of the time in various states of violent illness. With rare exceptions, the sea and I do not mix happily." 

I sat on the couch, got squeaked at by Swivet until I gave him a boost up so he could curl up next to me, and said, "Wasn't the last time on the Waking Sea _years_ ago?" 

"I don't think the name of the sea makes a difference, amatus. And no, it was when I came up before the Exalted Council. That was the Nocen Sea. The _point_ is, I don't react well to bobbing about on water unless said water is smooth as glass. They are predicting squalls. _Squalls."_ He shuddered. 

I scratched Swivet in his favourite spot between his ears and got a contented trill for my efforts. "Aren't there tinctures we can get you?" 

"I have yet to find one that didn't allow at least a tinge of nausea to remain. Not to mention one that came highly recommended managed to make me _sicker_. I've also been told that the stretch of sea where the Nocen becomes the Colean is _always_ unsettled. I may die before we ever reach land." 

Damn. "…Healing spells?" I hazarded. 

"Don't think there's anything to heal. Same with the potions. None of them acknowledge nausea as something that requires healing." He looked miserable already. 

"I always knew you get seasick, but I didn't realize it affects you _that_ badly," I said. "Maybe I can help." 

"Many have tried, none have succeeded," he said heavily. "You may want to ensure we have separate cabins, as I'm liable to be unable to commune with anything but a bucket for the majority of the trip." 

"Why don't I get someone to bring you a glass of wine and I'm going to check into a few things," I said. He agreed the wine would be nice, but remained skeptical that anything I could do might help. 

I flagged down a servant to get Dorian's wine and a beer for myself, retrieved one of our sending crystals from its shelf and took it into my workshop, Swivet following close at my heels. 

I activated the crystal and waited several minutes, layering more hardening spells on my crossbows to pass the time. Finally it chimed and Mikal's voice came through. 

"Hello? Is this Kai or Dorian?" 

"Hi Mikal, it's Kai. I have a problem and was hoping you might be able to help me since it's in your area of expertise." 

I outlined Dorian's problem and the difficulties he had finding anything that actually fended off his seasickness. 

"The poor thing. I have to tell you my main field of expertise lies more in substances that _make_ you ill — or worse — but let me have a look. What I don't know personally, I have _recipes_ for." 

She excused herself for several more minutes and came back with instructions for two tinctures; she was positive that at least one of them would work. I wrote them down carefully, chatted with her for a while, then said goodbye and moved to the next step. 

Much as I didn't want to, I put Mikal's crystal away and fetched Alectius's. I activated it and he answered right away. 

"Magister Sevanus. What is it you require?" 

"Alectius? This is Kai Trevelyan. I have two tinctures I need made and they have to be on the ship in sufficient quantities before we leave." 

"Tinctures for what?" 

"Does it matter? I need them." I'm not sure why I didn't tell him; I just find myself wanting to be contrary around him. 

"How am I supposed to know what _sufficient quantities_ are?" The question was reasonable, but his tone was peevish. 

"Just make a lot, okay? I'm going to need to read you the instructions. Do you have something ready to write them?" 

"Of course," he said as if the very question was ridiculous. "Please proceed whenever you're ready." 

I read them slowly then annoyed him further by insisting he read them back to me. "You'll have them there when we leave?" 

"I said I would. I do not prevaricate. Now, was there anything else?" 

"No, Alec, that was all." 

"Alectius." 

"Sorry." 

He deactivated his crystal before I could add anything to that (not that I was going to any more than I was sorry). I put the crystal away and rejoined Dorian. He was still in his chair, looking marginally less mournful. 

"You look amused," he said as I sat back down and gave Swivet a boost. "Why? What have you been up to?" 

"I'm hoping I may have solved your seasickness problem. It involved talking to Alec." 

"Kai. Did you upset Alectius?" He tried to sound stern, but couldn't quite hide the smirk. 

"I wasn't _trying_ to," I lied. 

"Amatus, you told me yourself he gives you Mother Giselle syndrome. You most certainly did try to annoy him." 

"I may have been somewhat less formal than he likes," I allowed. 

" _Fasta vass,_ " he said to the ceiling. 

"But it was for you," I added. 

"You are terrible," he accused me. 

"That's why you love me." 

"Hm. It's certainly _one_ reason. Why do you think you've solved my problem when no one else could?" 

I stretched languidly and gave him a smug smile. "Because no one else knows Mikal Welton. She hunted down _two_ recipes for you and was sure at least one of them would work. I told Alec to get both made. They'll be on the ship when we get there." 

He sipped his wine. "I believe I shall allow myself a glimmer of hope, but no more than that. I've been promised sure-fire cures before. I do, however, have faith in Mikal. I should have thought of that myself." 

"You think we'll be on one of the Archon's ships?" I said lazily. 

"I think if you keep baiting Alectius, we're going to be sailing in grandly on a garbage scow. Now let's _please_ stop talking about sailing, shall we?" 


	24. Setting Sail

As we set out for Qarinus, it was hot, overcast and unspeakably muggy; the kind of humidity where you could swear the air itself is clinging wetly to you. Far in the distance I was sure I'd seen hints of lightning. 

I was already feeling out of sorts. I'd had to get up too early. I hadn't had enough coffee. After his considerable efforts to accompany us were rebuffed, Swivet had made his rusty-hinge noise that signified extreme displeasure and gone off to hide somewhere in the house, making me feel like a complete asshat. That wet wall of air we walked into was the last straw, as I started sweating almost immediately. Cooling spells didn't help because then I just felt wet and clammy, which was even worse. 

I don't know how much the ghastly humidity was bothering Dorian, but he was in a funk of his own, constantly eyeing the cloudy, unsettled sky with undisguised dread. The retainers caught our mood and kept their distance. Ours was a sullen, silent caravan all the way to the docks. 

Alectius was there at the entrance to lead us to our ship. I was wearing nothing above the waist but a sleeveless undershirt and was still drenched with sweat; he was in his full regalia including that stupid coat and looked serenely comfortable. It made me dislike him even more. We exited our coach and went over to greet him. He looked me up and down and turned to talk to Dorian. 

"The items you requested are all aboard ship. There will be horses and retainers waiting for you when you land." 

Dorian frowned. "You mean we're not taking our own people with us?" 

"We need to get you there quickly. If we start packing in staff and mounts, we may as well just rent a barge." 

He turned away from us to instruct our people where to deposit our belongings then returned his attention to Dorian. "You will, of course, not divulge the true nature of this trip to anyone. As far as they're all concerned, this is just another diplomatic mission." 

"Understood," Dorian said. "Is there anything else you neglected to tell us?" 

"I did not _neglect_ to tell you, Magister Pavus. I told you when there was a need for you to know," Alectius said. 

"What about the tinctures?" I asked. 

"I told you everything you requested was aboard ship, Lord Trevelyan." 

I gave him a hard smile. "Well, then, _Alec_ , if there's nothing else we suddenly need to know, why don't you show us our ship?" 

He made a fussy noise and started walking. We followed, Dorian executing an uncannily accurate imitation of Alec's gait. I choked back laughter. 

The ship was of a sort with which I was somewhat familiar (not that I remember what they're called). It was sleek and on the smaller side — built for speed and manoeuvrability. I'd sailed on one very much like it a few times the previous year and quite enjoyed it. 

Dorian looked dismayed. 

Alec noticed and a tiny smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Welcome to the _Shadowdancer_. As you can see, she's designed for speed, not luxury. I trust after the sort of primitive conditions you no doubt suffered during your years in the south, you won't have any difficulty with this. I will leave any further explanations to Captain Ludziik. I really must be going." He gave each of us a terse nod. "Luck, gentlemen. We shall be in touch."  

We stood there watching him retreat. "I'm really beginning to understand your distaste for him," Dorian said. "This ship is going to kill me. I just know it." 

"If it's like the one I was on, the quarters are a bit cramped but it's not bad," I said. "Shall we go see the captain?" 

We did. Captain Ludziik was a slim but muscular man in his early fifties. He was clean shaven with close-cropped grey hair and pale blue eyes. He may have been of Rivaini extraction, or he just may have spent that many years in the sun. He showed us where our gear was stored in the hold (we cast a few subtle wards to ensure it wasn't tampered with) then led us to what would be our quarters for the next few days. 

"Not what you're used to, I'm sure, but a ship like this, we don't spare a lot of extra room for comfort. Only reason we got something this posh for you is we transport quite a few important people like yourselves who need to get somewhere in a hurry." 

I was actually surprised it was as big as it was and told him so. They had already put our personal items in and- 

~~

Excuse me a moment — Dorian cutting in here, and without exclamation points, you'll note. I simply had to interject, because for the next several minutes, Kai got positively _chirpy_ talking to Captain Seadog. It turned out — naturally — that our captain knew the captain of the ship Kai had sailed on a year ago, and entirely too much enthusiasm about things nautical ensued. 

As they were having their happy little chat, I was observing our actual situation. While our room was admittedly spacious in the context of seagoing vessels, that only meant it was the size of a _medium-sized_ closet rather than a small one. I didn't mind that so much — I certainly don't object to sharing close quarters with Kai — but if I got as sick as on previous voyages… 

Meanwhile, the crew wasn't just standing around waiting while their captain had his little tête-à-tête. They were busily removing ropes that had kept us safely moored to the dock and doing things with sails that would undoubtedly result in our leaving the calm of the harbour. This worried me. The weather had not gotten more benevolent during the past half hour. When I looked in the direction we'd be heading, the sky had gone from overcast to blackish, with large, ominous clouds building. The air was sticky hot and had a heavy, electrical feeling to it. I was already aware that I was standing on a surface that could not be depended on to stay level, which was unsettling enough. If one of those tinctures from Mikal didn't work… Well, I've never heard of seasickness actually killing someone, but there's a first time for everything. 

With all that in mind, I was finally forced to pointedly clear my throat and suggest it might be wise to get ourselves set up before we sailed into _squalls_ or something. At least Kai was decent enough to look abashed and immediately agree. 

I now return you to your regularly scheduled narrator. 

~~

Ahem. As Dorian said, I may have gotten slightly carried away talking to Captain Ludziik. We all had things we needed to be doing. The captain invited us to eat with him later and left us to sort ourselves out.

As we entered our cabin, Dorian said, " _Eat_ later? Did either one of you notice those clouds? I'll be lucky if I can stand upright." 

I dug through the things that had been placed in boxes atop the narrow table at the end of the room until I found what I was looking for. There were two bottles, both holding about as much liquid as a magnum of wine. They were simply labelled _Tincture 1_ and _2_. Whoever made them had even glued instructions to the bottles. 

I held them up for Dorian to see. "Hopefully one of these will help. I suppose it's up to you which one you try first." 

He took them from me and read the labels. "Well. I'm sure they both taste ghastly. Perhaps this one — it sounds more dramatic." He handed it back so I could read. 

" _Apply electric current for thirty seconds_? Interesting," I said. "It doesn't say how strong." 

"I would assume we don't want the bottle to explode, so I'm guessing low-to-middling." He took the bottle back and sat on the narrow bed. "Is there something included to measure out a dose?" 

I checked the box. "I'm assuming this shot glass fits the bill." 

He took it from me and uncorked the bottle, sniffing it suspiciously. "It smells…strange. What do you think?" 

I sniffed. He was right. It didn't smell like anything I could place. "Shouldn't you give it its jolt first?" 

"Am I supposed to do the entire bottle or just the dose?" 

I searched, but there were no more instructions. "The dose? You don't want to activate the entire bottle then find out it only lasts half a day once you’ve done that." 

He nodded as he poured a careful dose. He handed me the bottle to re-cork and concentrated on the shot glass, sending a steady electrical charge into the liquid. For several seconds nothing happened, then it started to churn, turning from a dull greenish color to a rather pretty cerulean. A smell like peppermint doused with alcohol filled the room. "I daresay it's ready," he said, giving me a slightly nervous smile. 

"Let's hope it works. It's certainly pretty enough now." 

"I refuse to consume medicines that don't reach a minimum aesthetic standard. Well. What is it they say? _Here goes nothing_." He downed the shot in one gulp and gasped. "Alcohol is definitely what they've used to suspend the medicinal ingredients in. _Venhedis!_ " 

"How does it taste?" 

He wrinkled his nose. "Minty and medicinal, but with one monster of a kick." 

"Do you feel any different?" 

"Aside from well on my way to getting drunk? Not as far as I can tell. I suppose we won't know for sure until we're on something other than glassine waters. How long 'til we're underway, do you think?" 

I looked out the little window over the table. "About now, I'd say. We seem to be moving. Ah. Looks like they've got a weather mage." 

The ship lurched, then began moving smoothly as the mage coaxed wind into the sails. Dorian lay back on the bed. 

"I think I'd rather wait here for the time being. Are you going on deck?" 

I shook my head. "I'd just be in the way at the moment. I'll wait here with you." 

"Good. You can get ready to grab the bucket if this tincture doesn't work." 

I set one of the two wooden chairs so I could look out the window (I still maintain if it's not round, it's not a porthole), allowing Dorian to stretch out on the bed. Someone had hung my coat on a peg by the door; I took it down and started refreshing its hardening spells while I watched the activity outside. There was a great deal of running about and shouting going on, but from what I'd seen, that was business as usual on a ship. We didn't talk a great deal for the next half hour. I was still feeling overheated and uncommunicative, and Dorian was waiting to get violently ill, though as time passed it looked more like he'd dozed off. 

Once we'd cleared the harbour and were properly underway, I stood up. The chair squawked loudly as I pushed it back, waking Dorian. "It's stuffy as fuck in here; I'm going on deck," I told him. "Join me?" 

He sat up and yawned. "I think I'd like that. Did I fall asleep?" 

We ventured out on deck. It was still humid, but nowhere near as miserable as it had been on land. The clouds overhead looked black and ominous, but so far they hadn't followed through on their threat. We crossed to lean on the railing at the side of the boat (I'm sure there's a nautical name for it, but damned if I could tell you what it is). 

"How are you feeling?" 

Dorian tore his gaze away from the water to give me a crooked smile. "I feel remarkably normal. The last time I was on a boat when the water was doing this, my insides were all trying to exit my body as violently as possible. If I don't suddenly descend back into that dark void, I believe I owe Mikal something rare and extravagant." 

I raised an eyebrow. "No love for the one who recruited her aid?" 

"Oh, you'll get rewarded too, amatus. Consider that both a threat _and_ a promise." He fired a small bolt of electricity that hit me square in the arse. "And you know I always make good on both."


	25. On the High Seas

The weather was still threatening and Dorian's tincture was still working when we met the captain for dinner. Rather than his cabin, we were seated at a separate table from the rest of the crew in the galley (I think? I know it's not called the dining room even though that's all it is). 

Along with the captain, we were joined by his first mate and his weather mage. The mate was an imposing woman named Geralyn. She was taller than both Dorian and me, and had short black hair and hazel eyes. She didn't talk much, but I got the impression she was just normally taciturn. The mage was a tiny woman in perhaps her late fifties named Renna who was talkative enough for both of them. 

It was Dorian who first noticed and asked, "Is that a Free Marches accent I detect?" 

Renna blinked in surprise. "Why, yes, it is. How did you-" 

Dorian grinned and gestured at me. "Blame him. I live with that accent." 

"I don't have an accent," I objected. 

"It's slight, but it's there, amatus." 

"So we've got something in common," Renna said to me. "I was something of an anomaly when I was young — I escaped _to_ Tevinter. Where are you from?" 

"Ostwick," I said, still disgruntled at the idea that I had a discernible accent. 

"I was originally from a village you've probably never heard of — Wildervale," she said. 

Dorian and I looked at each other and were hard pressed not to burst out laughing. "Actually, we were just there recently," he said. 

"Do they still have the statue of Brod?" 

"They most certainly do," I said. 

She laughed. "Maker, that thing used to give me nightmares when I was a girl." 

"Personally I find the bear more unsettling," I said. 

"Arvid? I always thought he was cute, with his fishing pole," she said with a smile. 

"It's the fishing pole that unsettles him the most," Dorian said. 

"How did you end up here, Renna?" I asked. 

"When my talent manifested, they had a choice of taking me to Kirkwall or Hasmal; fortunately, they chose Hasmal. Were you in a Circle, Kai?" 

I nodded. "Eighteen bloody years before I got out." 

"My sympathies. It was eleven years for me; until I was nineteen. Hasmal's Circle wasn't awful — except for the Templars and the fact that you couldn't leave — but I got frustrated because I wasn't able to get the training I wanted. They – what do you boys specialize in, anyway?" 

"Combat magic with a concentration in necromancy," Dorian answered. 

"Tricky stuff — I bet you're good." She smiled. "Kai?" 

"Also combat magic; I went the knight enchanter route." 

"Also tricky. I'm impressed. Then you know all about the extra training some fields require." 

We nodded agreement. 

"As you can see, my strength is weather magic. Unfortunately, likely because the fools in the south won't utilize practical magic even when it makes sense, there _was_ no one who could give me the specialized training I needed, and I don't need to tell you playing around with weather when you don't know what you're doing can result in…unfortunate consequences. I was sure I could find someone in Tevinter to teach me, so I spent half a year planning and managed to slip away from the Circle and over the border into Tevinter. I won't tell you my adventures right now — Khashayar and Geralyn have heard them all so many times, once more might make their ears bleed — but maker, I certainly had many." 

"They never tried to come after you?" I asked. 

She laughed. "Hunting mages in Tevinter? Not many Templars are that stupid. Besides, with all the horror stories in the south, I'm sure they assumed I'd been killed or enslaved within the first week." 

After that, the conversation turned to other things, though I would have liked to hear more of Renna's adventures. We traded news of events happening in Tevinter and elsewhere then pumped them for information about Castra Nicia. 

"It's a funny place," said Captain Ludziik. "Seems almost stuck in the past. You'll see what I mean soon as you ride into town." 

"It _feels_ very remote," Renna added. "Of course, if you like that sort of place…have you been assigned there?" 

I shook my head. "We fix things." 

Geralyn spoke for the first time. "Well, be warned — some of the local officials are the worst kinds of self-important bastards you'd ever hope to run across. They'll try to block anything they think interferes with how they run things there." 

We thanked her and the conversation wandered into a less serious vein for the rest of the meal. Afterwards, we stayed out on deck until fat drops of rain started to fall. That was all the incentive we needed to return to our cabin. 

Dorian closed the door behind us and smacked me in the back of the head. 

"Ow! What was that for?" I demanded. 

" _We fix things_?" 

"What? I've always wanted to say that. It was the perfect opportunity." 

"It sounds like something a character in one of your adventure novels would say." 

I ruffled his hair and sat down to untie my boots. "You're just sorry you didn't get to say it first." 

He threw himself onto the bed. "I swear, deep down your true desire is to be some sort of badass elite mercenary. All the bookishness and sophisticated vocabulary is just a clever cover for your baser passions." 

I looked up at him. " _Baser passions_? Are you suggesting something?" 

"Of course his mind goes directly to the gutter," Dorian told the ceiling. 

"Well, if you're too ethereal and _civilized_ for such activities, I shall drop the subject entirely. Besides, given the tight quarters I'm sure you'd acquire a bruise or two and we can't have that." I pulled off my left boot and nearly gave myself a bruise banging my elbow into the table. 

"Nonsense. We _should_ do something celebratory, seeing as this boat is apparently in the midst of a _squall_ and I am not deathly ill." 

I yanked off my other boot, taking care to avoid hitting anything else. "You want me to ask the cook to bake you a cake? Or perhaps I should compose a poem for you." 

He propped himself up on his elbows to glare at me. "You're getting awfully full of yourself." 

"Says the poster boy for vanity." 

"I happen to know for a fact that you're not nearly as unconcerned with your appearance as you pretend," he said with smug assurance. 

"Staying in shape is not vain, it's _practical_ ," I shot back. 

"Hm. Just like the eyeliner you use?" He gave me a sweetly triumphant smile. 

I had no good answer for that, at least, none that wouldn't prove him right. Instead I grunted. "Well, if you were truly looking to do something celebratory, you've got a funny way to set the mood." 

He looked up from removing his own boots. "I'd think doing something sweaty and decadent aboard a ship hurtling through the night towards possible doom would be irresistible to your adventuresome spirit." 

I made a show of scanning the cabin. "Sweaty we can definitely do, but is there enough _room_ to be decadent? Adventure is one thing, but I don't want splinters." 

He frowned. "You have a point. We may have to settle for _restrained_ decadence. The logistics are going to be tricksy for even that." 

"That's part of the challenge when things get nautical. I was half expecting we'd end up with hammocks." 

"They wouldn't dare suggest a Magister use a hammock." 

"Even if you wanted one?" 

He smoothed his moustache. "I cannot imagine myself wanting one." 

"Really? Then your imagination isn't trying too hard," I said as I pulled my shirt off. "There are _things_ you can do in a hammock, I've been told. Things we have yet to try." 

"You are not going to get all smug at me about _knowing_ things, are you? Because I assure you I also know things. I daresay I still haven't shown you all the things I know. Where in the world are we supposed to put everything?" Boots in one hand, he was scanning the room. 

"Stick them under the table here; there's a bit of room," I said. 

"Ugh. I fail to see what people consider so romantic about sea voyages." 

"It's a lie they tell people when they get back home, hoping that others will go voluntarily endure the same misery they just experienced." 

"And then return with their own stories of romance and adventure, so the cycle is self-perpetuating. Fiendishly clever, that." He pulled off his tunic and managed to slam his own elbow into a wall. " _Venhedis!_ To think this is a _big_ cabin." 

I gave him an arch look. "So tell me, what are these things you haven't shown me?" 

We ended up doing something not at all decadent — and even so ended up with a few inadvertent bruises — then tried to get some sleep (I took the side of the bed against the wall in case Dorian's tincture wore off in the middle of the night). It was stuffy in the small room and I could hear what sounded like a pretty good storm blowing outside as well as feel that we were definitely on a boat. I'm not sure how long I lay there before falling into a fitful sleep. 

I was awakened out of a nightmare (I don't remember what, except it was claustrophobic) by a terrible sound. It was a sort of guttural groaning that wouldn't have sounded out of place in the Fade. It took me a few moments to realize it was Dorian. 

I sat up carefully, saying, "Tincture wore off?" 

"Ngglpfahrn," he replied. At least that's what it sounded like. 

Weak grey light was coming in the window; it looked like the worst of the storm had passed, though the seas weren't yet calm. Dorian was in as close to a fetal position as he could get, given the limited amount of room, wrapped in most of the blanket. 

I climbed over him and retrieved the tincture and shot glass, pleased that I'd decided to keep the arm on when we retired. I poured a dose and applied electricity until it had its reaction and the room filled with the smell of medicinal peppermint. 

"Dorian." 

He looked at me blearily. 

"Here you go. Tincture. Drink." 

He made a face  like he’d just fallen into an abattoir. "I can't. It smells like candied death. Maybe later." He tried to bury himself deeper in the blanket. 

"No you don't." I pulled down the blanket, eliciting another tortured groan out of him. "You're just going to get sicker if you don't drink it and I've been nice enough to prepare it for you without a thought for how badly I need coffee, so you can either drink it voluntarily or I can make you." 

He gave me a look of pure venom. "I'm _sick._ How can you talk to me like that when I'm _sick_?" 

"Because this will make you _not_ sick. You don't have to get out of bed, but you do have to prop yourself up enough to drink it. I'm not going to let you alone until you do." 

"You're a bastard, Kai. I hope you know that," he mumbled. 

"You're breaking my heart. Now drink." 

He propped himself up on one elbow with another groan — he really did look sick — gave me another death look and downed the tincture. With a disgusted noise, he dropped back onto the bed and yanked up the blanket. "There. That was ghastly. I hope you're happy." 

"Delirious. And now, because I love you, I'll give you some time to wake up and feel better. I'm going to find coffee." I finished getting dressed and matched action to words. 

_=#=_

I found my coffee and perhaps half an hour later, Dorian found me in the galley, drinking my third cup and talking to some crew members. He was looking like himself again, so at least the tincture wasn't just a one-shot wonder. 

He sat next to me as the cook handed him a coffee and put a fresh pot of it on the table. "Feeling better?" I asked him. 

He nodded, spooning sugar into his coffee (Sadly, his experiment with drinking it black hadn't stuck). "Much, thank you." 

"Tirell and Marten were just telling me about Castra Nicia." I indicated the crew members. 

"And it's time we get back to work," Marten said. They excused themselves and I angled my chair so it would be easier to talk. 

"Did they just _run away_ from me?" Dorian demanded. 

"Well, you are a Magister," I pointed out. 

"True. There are times I forget what the public perception of that means. It's not like you or Mae started treating me differently. Meanwhile you and the crew are already on a first-name basis?" Dorian looked amused. 

"Why not? They seemed decent enough and I'm not a Magister. They were surprised at first, though. Apparently most magisterial types and their associates never deign to talk to the crew." 

"Hm. Yes, Magisters are by and large an arrogant lot," he said, smoothing his moustache. "Which I imagine is one of the reasons the Archon was so keen to enlist you. You _talk_ to people. It confuses the Magisters. They can't fathom what you get out of it." 

"Let them remain confused; it works to our advantage. I must say, I'm glad to see the tincture worked again." 

"I plan to hoard every drop of it jealously. You can't imagine how unspeakably dire I felt when it wore off. Oh, and you're not a bastard. I apologize." 

"Accepted. So get this — Tirell was telling me just over a year ago she was working on another ship that transported a small group up to Castra Nicia. She didn't know if they were going there to stay or not, but she said they were rather obnoxious and called themselves the _Venatori Rectus_." 

His eyebrows flew up as he swallowed coffee. "Really? A rogue offshoot perhaps… Roughly translated, that means the correct or righteous Venatori. That does make things more interesting, provided they stayed rather than heading into the Anderfels or some other benighted backwater." 

"I wonder what makes them the righteous ones." 

Dorian gave me a predatory smile. "Hopefully we're on our way to find out." 


	26. Part 4: Castra Nicia

Arrival

The next few days were largely uneventful. The tincture continued to work its wonders for Dorian, so we spent a fair bit of time on deck when we weren't likely to get in the way. 

We talked magic with Renna, who told us more of her colourful past. Dorian also decided to buck magisterial tradition and join me in getting to know the regular crew members. It took a little effort to convince them it was safe to talk to him, but once they became comfortable with the idea several of them seemed to enjoy the novelty. It helped that, unlike the majority of the Tevinter elite who had travelled on their ship, we'd actually _done_ things out in the real world. 

Evenings found us swapping stories — theirs of adventures at sea and ours of the Inquisition years, plus my extra year as an outrider in Tevinter and Dorian's extensive (and often debauched) travels through Tevinter when he was younger. I think the captain was pleased that he wasn't solely on the hook to entertain us; from what we were told, that was normally the case when they were transporting _important_ passengers. 

As well as making the voyage more interesting, getting friendly with the crew resulted in our acquiring information we might not otherwise have known. Some of what we were told was undoubtedly tall tales, but both of us also had crew members tell us legitimate things. Much was about Castra Nicia, of course, but they also told of Qunari activity they'd observed, and gossip, crimes and important local happenings in the ports they visited that never made it to ears in Minrathous. Most of it was probably unimportant, but you could never tell what small bits of information might be invaluable later. 

We listened most attentively to their stories of Castra Nicia. The picture they painted jibed with the information in Alectius's dossier. It was a small city of perhaps five thousand people and everyone's primary impression of the place was _boring and a little bit stuck in the past._ Until recently, that is. 

Starting just over half a year ago, visitors to Castra Nicia noticed an increasing insularity that seemed to be led by the city's government. It was subtle, but where the Watch used to be friendly to visitors, they had turned stern and unwelcoming, and the government had increasingly been closing itself off from the public. 

Three months ago it had gone from a little odd to downright weird there. The cult that had moved into town had gone from keeping to themselves in one neighbourhood to strutting around as if they owned the place. A month after that, they'd virtually disappeared, though no one had seen them leave. The fact that it was around then their prefect cut off all communication with Minrathous did not escape us. 

=#= 

Late afternoon of the fourth day, we pulled into a sheltered cove. Sailors hauled our gear out of the hold and loaded it and us into a smaller boat. They rowed us to shore, where we met the commander of our backup troops, a short, husky man named Marcellus. The army had a permanent garrison further inland, out of sight of both the cove and Castra Nicia. We’d be overnighting there, as it was too late to go into town. We were watching two soldiers load our gear onto a pack horse when Captain Ludziik approached us.

"Our instructions are to meet you here in a fortnight. I understand you have a means of contacting Minrathous if the situation changes?" We said we did and he continued, "Under normal circumstances I would bid you farewell now, but as you've proven to be…unlike our usual passengers, it's been requested that I extend an invitation to you." 

"We are, as they say down south, all ears. What sort of invitation might this be?" Dorian asked. 

"It's something of a tradition — duties permitting — for the crews of the _Shadowdancer_ and the garrison here to take a night of leave to—" He tapped a finger against his lips, "Oh, bloody hell. We have ourselves a proper booze-up." 

"And we're invited? We accept," Dorian said. 

"Emphatically," I added. "But now I've got to ask — what happens with your usual passengers?" 

He smiled. "Commander Marcellus would provide you with an honour guard who would escort you to a very private cabin where you would be given a nice meal, good wine and a very quiet night far removed from the common soldiers and sailors. All very civilized, I assure you." 

"This sounds far more interesting," I said. 

Soldiers brought us horses and led us to the garrison. "And you wonder why I take time to get friendly with regular people," I said quietly to Dorian as we rode. 

" _I_ don't wonder, amatus. My elitist tendencies were curbed long ago, except when I find it amusing or expedient to be so. Most of the other Magisters, on the other hand…" 

"Sorry. I should have specified that I was using the collective 'you', not you personally." 

"Yes, you should have. I may have been terribly wounded by that. I would, of course, forget the _reason_ after this epic booze-up we're to attend, and be left with a lingering feeling of baffled _hurt_ every time I look at you the next day." 

"Leaving me to wonder what I did during said booze-up that would hurt you so, and since you won't remember, I'd feel compelled to fabricate something plausible then end up drinking far too much more in a fit of self-loathing," I continued. 

"And as you asked in drunken anguish 'what did I _do_?' I would find myself wondering if the hurt wasn't just the unremembered remnants of a bad dream, plunging me into guilt-ridden depression. And all this due to a sloppy use of pronouns," Dorian finished mournfully. 

We reached the garrison and were shown to our quarters, a private cabin set some distance from the rest of the complex. After the ship's cabin it felt unbelievably spacious. The young soldier who escorted us told us we were to dine with the Commander and Captain Ludziik in the Commander's quarters and left us to our own devices until then. 

"So what do we really know about Castra Nicia?" I said, pulling off my overshirt and mentally commanding my forearm to let go; I needed to let the real arm breathe for a bit before reattaching the prosthesis. 

Dorian dropped into one of the armchairs. "They're rather insular, rather backward, rather strange and lately they've stopped communicating with everyone and quite possibly have starting eating representatives the government has sent." 

"Damn. I was hoping you'd heard something I missed. I hate going into a place with no information." 

"We used to do that all the time. I don't count _three rifts thataway — go close them!_ as particularly useful information." 

"Yes, well I was younger and less cynical back then. This whole thing sounds off. Do you think it's actually all a set-up by the Archon to see how we'll perform?" 

"It's certainly possible, though even for him this strikes me as needlessly elaborate. I do vote we try to conclude this little adventure as quickly as possible. I'm already convinced the entire village shall smell of fish and bleak humourlessness."

“What does bleak humourlessness smell like?”

“Out-of-date tomes on the mathematical applications of magical theory that have been sitting on a slightly damp section of shelving for at least three years between openings,” he said without hesitation. 

I laughed and said, "You want to go in loud or conservative?" 

"Oh, the louder the better. We want to draw any evildoers out of the woodwork." 

I grinned. "Hoping having a Magister in their face will make them nervous?" 

"Well, that and you know I can't resist the opportunity to make a grand entrance." He stretched and grimaced. "I wonder if they have anything approaching a proper bath here; I feel unspeakably grimy." 

"I know what you mean. I'm afraid we're more likely to get use of a private room and a bucket, but we can ask." 

"Ugh. Buckets. I hope our future assignments aren't going to all involve enduring primitive living conditions. I've had enough of that to last a lifetime, and I am far too well-groomed for it to continue. That was supposed to be one of the perks of becoming a Magister, escaping that sort of barbarism." 

"Agreed." I rubbed at my left arm, disliking having no left hand again even temporarily. "I say we refuse any job that involves excessive exposure to tents and insist on at least a modicum of plumbing at our destination cities." 

"Snack trays are good too. Except when they get over-zealous with cunningly shaped cucumbers and the like; then they're just crass." 

**=#=**

We were surprised and pleased to discover the outpost had a proper bathhouse with magically sustained hot water and all the other conveniences you'd find in Minrathous itself. We wasted no time availing ourselves of it; every time I've travelled by sea I've felt like I was covered with a film of sticky salt, and this time was no exception. 

Dinner with the Captain and Commander went well. They were both cultured but practical men who admitted they were relieved we were unlike the diplomats and assorted Magisters they normally had to put up with. 

Unfortunately, there was little Commander Marcellus could add to our scant store of knowledge about Castra Nicia. After the second set of envoys from Minrathous had disappeared, they'd been ordered to keep their distance. All he could really tell us was the place didn't look noticeably different, and no one had been observed going in or out of town for weeks. 

The "proper booze-up" after was exactly what you'd expect. Some of the soldiers were leery of us at first, but that didn't last long. We drank too much, stayed up too late and learned nothing of value as far as the mission was concerned, but we did win the good will of the men and women who'd be our backup if everything went sideways. In that I considered it a complete success. 


	27. Welcome to Castra Nicia

It was early afternoon before we sat down to outline our plans with Marcellus and his aides. Dorian had woken hung over and needed time for the healing spells to kick in. I rarely get hung over (I can't decide if that's a good thing or a sign my body is far too accustomed to alcohol), but I was congested, and happy to sleep as long as possible then linger over coffee. Since the rest of the garrison was in much the same condition, no one questioned our lateness. 

Our initial plan was simple. They'd been told to expect Magister Pavus and his right-hand man, ostensibly to reopen communications. Whether they were going to heed the message was unknown. We'd ride to the town escorted by the standard four-soldier honour guard. Whether we dismissed them to return to the garrison would depend on the reception we received. All we could do beyond that was throw out scenarios and outline rough plans for each. 

If the soldiers didn't report back within two days, the garrison was to assume there was trouble and come in force. We arranged alert spells to signal serious trouble, but there was no guarantee they’d be able to receive them, depending on from where we cast them. In other words, once the soldiers left, we were essentially on our own. 

We spent one more night preparing, and in mid-morning set out for town. As we'd opted to go in loud, Dorian was dressed in his most elaborate version of magisterial finery, though it had been subtly tailored so he could easily discard the impractical embellishments in the event we found ourselves in combat. Since I dislike that kind of finery intensely (and have trouble hiding that fact), I'd opted for the other extreme — what Dorian called my Elite Badass Mercenary getup — all heavy black weaves and leather with lots of straps, belts and studs. He'd brought his most ostentatious staff. I didn't bring one, but strapped on the crossbows, the belts holding extra bolts and my hunting knife so they were highly visible. Let them wonder if I was a mage, or better yet, assume I wasn’t. The soldiers were rather amused by our get-ups, though they agreed they suited our looks very well. 

The road into Castra Nicia was hard-packed dirt. It was well tended, but showing signs of recent neglect. Our horses' hooves raised little puffs of dust with every step. The vegetation around us consisted of spindly, low trees and high grasses, mostly brown in the summer heat. Insects buzzed somnolently, and occasionally we could hear the cries of sea birds in the distance. The increasing heat of the day was offset by a light breeze blowing in off the water. The beaches on this peninsula were rocky, the coastline mostly rough and unforgiving. 

As we rode into town, we understood what we'd been told about it — everything looked oddly old-timey, even to me, and I wasn't very familiar with architectural trends in Tevinter. Most of the buildings were boxy, utilitarian squares of brown or off-white brick with tall, rectangular windows and reddish clay tiled roofs. Doorways were arched, and the nicer buildings sported balconies on the second floors. Streets near the city centre were cobbled and boasted wooden sidewalks, but that project had yet to include the outlying districts, which were still the same packed dirt as the road into town. It also seemed oddly quiet, but for all I knew that had to do with the time of day. 

" _Venhedis,_ it looks like they don't want to admit we ever moved into the Dragon Age," Dorian murmured. "This is what towns looked like when my father was a boy." 

"Not a lot of people around," I said. 

"Could be normal. This place somehow doesn't strike me as a beehive of activity at the best of times." 

We entered the town square and angled towards the prefect's compound. I'll give Alectius credit — his maps had been bang-on, so we knew exactly where we were going. 

"I note you've somehow managed to ensure I have to take the lead in this little improvisation of ours," Dorian said. 

"You're the Magister. Radonis ensured you'd have to take the lead." 

"But you needn't have set yourself up as the grim and silent type," he complained. 

"You have to admit it seems appropriate." I tried not to smirk. "Maybe this is also to prove to you that you _do_ have the talent to be a diplomat as well as a devastatingly handsome political renegade." 

"Flattery will get you everywhere," he said. 

"I know. But I'm more than happy to make repeat visits."  
  
He shot me an arch grin then turned his attention to the compound gateway. 

There was a small welcoming committee of sorts assembled there, though they didn’t look very welcoming. I recognized most of them from Alectius's information packet. The heavyset man in the ostentatious red-gold cloak was the prefect himself, Servius Maltho. He had mousy brown hair styled into the sort of curly thatch I’d seen in portraits from thirty years previous, and a bushy moustache shot through with grey. He was flanked on his right by his second-in-command, a reedy woman with short black hair and bright hazel eyes named Celestina something-or-other (her first name kept distracting me because she didn't look celestial in the least). On Maltho’s left was another heavyset man who looked like his brother, but was his Head of Policing, Drusus Pansa. There were also half a dozen armed guards, which didn't strike me as very diplomatically sporting. 

Dorian took the lead with me following close behind and slightly to the left. Our four-person honour guard had taken up a subtly staggered box formation, so if shooting started they wouldn't get in each other's way. 

He reined in his horse some paces from the prefect but didn't dismount. "Prefect Maltho?" 

Maltho nodded. "I am. And you must be the latest emissary from Minrathous. Magister…Pavus, is it?" 

Dorian inclined his head and Maltho continued, "So we rate a Magister now. No matter, I'll tell you the same thing I told the others. We no longer wish to have dealings with Minrathous or any other government. This includes the Archon, the Black Divine, Qunari fanatics and Anderfels barbarians." 

"Yet you are still a prefecture of Tevinter and as such, bound by its laws," Dorian said calmly. "Surely there is a more appropriate place to discuss these matters." He didn't even make a pithy observation about road dust; I was impressed. 

"We expected we wouldn't get rid of you so easily," Maltho grumbled. "Very well. We'll meet. You can present Tevinter's case. Then we'll request you leave." 

"Have you a timetable in place for this?" Once again he resisted the urge to insert so much as a small play on words. 

"We'll give you dinner if that's what was worrying you," the un-celestial Celestina said. 

"I was merely attempting to assess the likely duration of our stay, Sub-Prefect Civilus," Dorian said smoothly. _Ah — Civilus. She wasn't shaping up to be very civil either._

She blinked in surprise, as Maltho hadn't introduced her or Pansa to us. 

Maltho himself looked annoyed. "I expect overnight shall be sufficient. You'll need time to clean up, obviously. We'll do the festivities tonight, meet with you tomorrow. How many of your retainers are we expected to house?" 

"Just my second here. The soldiers are from your local garrison, as I'm sure you know." 

"Of course." I could see from his expression he didn't know any such thing. For a supposed politician, he knew fuck-all about masking his emotions. I expected he was also a lousy card player. He clapped his hands twice, loudly. 

A pair of servants approached. "If you'll dismount, we'll stable those horses and send your belongings to your quarters. Will you be requiring two suites or—" 

"Kai will be with me," Dorian said, leaving it up in the air what our exact relationship might be. 

"Excellent. Then you'll be shown to your quarters and provided with whatever you require. A servant will escort you to the dining room when the time comes; it will be some hours still. Now if you'll excuse us, Magister, we too must prepare." 

The three of them turned in unison and swept through the gateway into the compound followed by most of their armed escort. We looked at each other and dismounted. Still keeping in character, Dorian dismissed our honour guard, expressing faith that our hosts were clearly trustworthy. One of the servants and a guard took our horses. The other we followed. 

The Prefect's compound was probably considered grand by local standards, but like everything in Castra Nicia, it looked old and tired and seedy, like walking into an elderly relative’s house where the décor hasn’t changed in twenty years and they won’t hire a cleaning person. I could have been mentally embellishing, but I could swear it even smelled aged and musty. It was surrounded by a wall perhaps a head taller than a tall man. To our right and left were typical outbuildings: stables, smithy, a few stands selling goods and food, and well away from everything else, a communal latrine. The prefecture itself was a white stone building some three stories tall with one-story wings of more recent vintage to either side. A series of low steps led up to the entrance — a heavy double door that was currently open, but could be barred and bolted shut. There were statues of dragons on either side of the doors, carved by someone who had little in the way of inspiration or talent. The servant led us into the building's grand foyer (like everything else, it wasn't all that grand) and left into one of the wings. 

We went down a long, dim corridor with wainscoting to shoulder height, walls and ceiling a neutral off white. Rather than mage lights, there were southern-style oil lamps mounted at intervals. The servant stopped at a set of carved hardwood doors. He unlocked them, handed Dorian the key and said, "I trust you'll find these comfortable, Magister. Is there anything you require?" 

I entered ahead of him and stopped cold. An elven woman was standing to one side of the doors, head bowed subserviently. 

"Who is this?" I said. 

"That?" The servant gave her a slight sneer. "That is your slave, of course. She comes with the suite." 

"We don't require a slave." 

"But she comes with the suite," he reiterated. 

"But we don't _want_ her," I enunciated clearly at him. "Give her a few days off. Let her do something _fun_." 

The very picture of confusion, he turned to Dorian. "Magister? What…” 

"You heard him. We require that she take a few days to herself to do whatever she wants. Not that it looks like there's much choice in entertainments here, but we do _not_ require her presence." 

"This is…m-m-most unusual," the servant stammered. 

Dorian smiled indulgently at him. "So are we. Now if you continue to be difficult, we shall cause an _incident_ by demanding she be set free and given passage to the country of her choice. We may do that anyway." 

"I…shall have to consult my supervisor. I'll be back shortly, Magister." He bobbed his head and fled out the door, leaving us with the elven woman, who had forgotten to be subservient and was frankly gawking at us. She had dark brown hair done up in complicated braids and blue-green eyes that reminded me of my sister's. 

"What _would_ you like to do?" I asked her. 

"Master?" 

"Not master. Kai. And that's Dorian. He is a magister, but don't let that worry you. What's your name?" 

"Sivra, mas— Kai." 

"Do you really come with this room?" Dorian asked. 

She nodded. "Oh yes, I stay here and serve those who stay in the suite." 

"So we're kicking you out of your house if we send you away?" I hadn't considered that possibility. 

She shrugged. "It is not my house. I stay where they tell me to stay. For some time, it has been here." 

"So if you had your choice, Sivra, what would you like to do?" I reiterated. "Please answer truthfully, not what you think we might want to hear." 

She looked at us with suspicion. "Why would you wish to hear what a slave wants?" 

"He's from the Free Marches. He doesn't believe in slavery," Dorian said, nodding in my direction. "As it happens, despite my being a magister, I agree with him." 

"We're really not trying to play some sick joke on you, I promise," I said. 

You could almost see the moment she decided to throw caution to the winds. "Then I would like…to go home." 

"And where might that be?" Dorian said. 

"Ferelden. Denerim. Well, maybe not Denerim. When I was sixteen, Teyrn Loghain sold my family into slavery. I've been here ever since." She gave us a cautiously defiant look. 

"Denerim again," Dorian said. 

"We have two good friends from Denerim. Both elves, as it happens," I told her and turned to Dorian. "Let's talk. Wait here, Sivra." 

I led him out of her earshot. "We should do it. Send her home, I mean." 

"You do realize we can't go about rescuing every slave we're liable to meet on these little adventures." 

I smiled. "I know. But here and now we can. Besides, we need her out of the suite. You know they've probably told her to eavesdrop and report." 

"You're not going to win us any popularity contests, you know. Buying their house slaves out from under them just to set them free — they'll think us mad or soft in the head." He smoothed his moustache and raised his eyebrows slightly. 

"Let them," I said with a shrug. "You can blame me if you want. I'm either a wet blanket of a southerner or an overly suspicious bastard depending on how you want to play it. I want to do this." 

"You do realize every slave you talk to is going to have a story that will tug at your heartstrings." He was being contrary just for the sake of it now but it didn't bother me. 

"Not all of them. I've talked to a few who thought I was mad to suggest they would want freedom. Of course, they were in positions of relative power in noble houses and clearly the exception to the rule. Anyway, I know that, and I know I can't free everyone. But…I like her." 

He grinned. "You've known her for half a minute." 

"I knew I liked _you_ that quickly." 

He rolled his eyes, but looked pleased. "Fine, we'll do it. To the Void with what our hosts think. If nothing else we shall have made a memorable first impression." 

We walked back to her. 

"I hope you're serious," I said. 

She nodded, flinching slightly as the door opened and a man who must have been the major-domo walked in. He was a big man, but soft and slightly pudgy. The ruddiness of his face and broken veins in his nose suggested he was well acquainted with alcohol. His thinning brown hair had been carefully styled in the same outdated fashion that Maltho sported. 

"Is there a problem with this slave?" he asked Dorian. 

"Not at all," Dorian said cheerfully. "In fact, we want to buy her." 

He frowned. "Household slaves are not for sale." 

Dorian gave him a smile that was all steel. "I am a Magister. Everything is for sale." 

The man visibly wilted. "I—of course, Magister. I didn't mean to offend. It's just that…I will have to find her papers and get permission." 

"Why do you need permission? You are the major-domo here, aren't you?" I asked. 

"Yes, but—" 

"Then aren't you in charge of the household, including the purchasing and assigning of slaves? I can't imagine the prefect troubles himself with such things." 

"No, he doesn't, but—" 

I crowded him just a touch. "It almost seems to me like you're trying to stall the Magister. You're not trying to defy him, are you? Over a slave?" 

He shook his head hard enough his jowls wobbled slightly. "Of course not. I'll get her papers. Um. If you don't mind waiting." 

"Just try not to take too long, my good man." Dorian waved him away. 

As the man left, we took seats in the living area, indicating that Sivra should sit too. 

She did so gingerly, as if the armchair she chose might bite her. 

"How are you planning to get her home?" he asked me. 

"Fill out her papers, get you to make them official. Then we get someone to escort her to the garrison. She can either wait there for us and we can send her south from Qarinus, or we can arrange an escort." 

"You know how to fill out the papers?" he sounded surprised. 

"I did a few emancipations when I was a scrivener. With your seal, I'd say I remember enough to satisfy most officials." 

He raised an eyebrow. "You know where to lodge them too?" 

"Someone at the garrison should be able to tell us. If not, I suppose I could ding Alectius." 

He smirked. "You wouldn't." 

"Your pardons," Sivra cut in, managing to make the words sound apologetic. 

We both looked at her. 

She visibly gulped, but continued, "Does this mean you're really doing this? You're buying my freedom?" 

"Yes. Well, unless you don't want us to," I said. 

"No! I mean, I do. I _really_ do. But… _why_? You don't even know me." 

I shrugged. "It's the right thing to do." 

While we waited, we talked to her. She wouldn't quite look us in the eyes and kept trying to deflect questions about herself, but as several minutes passed without us showing anything but friendly interest toward her, she relaxed a bit a let a little personality show. I thought she was a likeable and intelligent woman. Of course, we'd met Loghain and thought he was likeable and intelligent too. We didn't tell her we knew the man who'd sold her family into slavery. 

The major-domo returned with her papers and a sour look that thawed marginally when we agreed to pay him nearly what he was asking. It took me another half hour to write up a proper emancipation document. I think Dorian enjoyed searing the magical seal on it; it certainly impressed Sivra. 

We went over her options with her, and she chose to wait at the garrison for us. It took another hour to get an escort we trusted to take her to the garrison. She gathered her scant belongings from the small bedroom off the main room and we walked her outside to her escort, a capable-looking woman from the city guard. She didn't have the slightest idea how to ride a horse, so we arranged for a two-person trap. 

"I- I don't know how to thank you," she said once her escort declared them ready to go. We'd given her the documents wrapped in a leather pouch and she was holding them as though they were going to attempt to escape given the slightest opportunity. 

"You may not if we hit _squalls_ on the way back," Dorian said. 

"We'll see you at the garrison," I said. 

I handed the escort another letter for Commander Marcellus outlining who Sivra was and requesting they treat her as a guest of the Magister until our return. 

We watched as they rode through the gates of the compound. 

Dorian smiled crookedly at me. " _You_ look very pleased with yourself." 

"I am. You should be too. Not only did we do a good thing, but we removed their best listening device from our quarters." 

"Hm. We _are_ fiendishly clever, aren't we?" 

We returned to our quarters and got the same servant, who (nervously) asked if we required anything else. 

Dorian requested refreshments and directions to bathing facilities (they were attached to the suite, happily, as were the other facilities). The servant left, promising the refreshments shortly. 

We went deeper into the suite, but didn't talk yet. We checked both the physical suite and magical spectrum for spyholes and passive listening spells. There were a few, which we left in place. 

There was a well-appointed sitting room with a fireplace and a door to an outside courtyard we silently picked as 'ours'. We blocked the one passive listening spell we found and warded the room against all other intrusions. They'd only hear what we wanted them to hear. 

In the unwarded main room, Dorian said, "If it's all the same to you, I think I'll have a lie-down soon, once that man comes back with enough comestibles to tide us over. That was far more excitement than I expected." 

"As you like," I answered. I'd decided my character was a taciturn sort when not freeing slaves. 

He made a show of bustling about the suite while I unhooked the majority of my straps and weapon belts, hanging them up nearby. All that leather looks good, but it gets bloody hot after a while even with cooling spells. 

Finally another servant knocked on the door and brought us the requested refreshments. He also showed me a cabinet I'd not got round to investigating that held enough wine, beer and spirits to keep a few dedicated drinkers happy for the better part of a week. I locked and warded the door shut behind him then joined Dorian in our private room. 

"So what do you think?" he said, plucking some sort of fruity drink off the tray and examining it critically. 

"I think I don't trust any of these wankers as far as I could throw Bull and all his Chargers combined." I investigated something purple and fizzy. "You don't think they'd poison us yet, do you?" 

"Hopefully not. I'm counting on them wanting to know what the Archon might have in mind before they send us to whatever benighted void the others have all disappeared into." 

I nodded and took a sip. It actually _tasted_ purple, if that makes any sense. "I must say, you showed considerable restraint with them. Not so much as one play on words even. I'm impressed." 

He grinned. "Believe me, amatus, it wasn't easy. They were _crying out_ for it, but I bravely persevered. I really don't know how much hobnobbing with the local elite I can tolerate before I burst out in spontaneous wit." 

"So do you think they'll play it straight tonight or drug us at dinner?" 

"They don't seem terribly subtle. Of course, I doubt we've met all the players in this little melodrama yet." 

"I'm going to officially go on record saying I don't think this is Qunari. It doesn't feel like their style in the least." 

He pulled off his boots and stretched out on the divan. "Agreed. By the by, are you supposed to be my bodyguard?" 

"I was trying to project that impression without coming right out and saying it. With any luck, they'll be as lazy as most people and assume, because of the outfit, that I'm no mage." 

"You think that might be important?" 

I pulled off my own boots and crossed my legs at the ankle, sipping the purple thing. It was surprisingly refreshing. "Yes, I do. I'm hoping they didn't look into our identities too deeply beyond _Magister heading this way_. I want to be underestimated." 

He smirked. "You _are_ enjoying this." 

"Oh, and you're not?" 

"As long as we're able to stay in control of the situation, I shall enjoy myself immensely. I wish I knew who the puppetmaster was." 

"Think it's those _Venatori Veritas_ or whatever they're calling themselves?" 

" _Rectus_ , actually, but that's very good. They mean virtually the same thing. I'm rather hoping it is so we can wipe whatever remnants of the Venatori there might be from the face of Thedas." 

"Might mean there're a few scary mages lurking about here." 

"We're scarier," he said, "and far more stylish. How much leather do you _own_?" 

I shrugged. "A lot. It's just too hot up here to wear it most of the time unless I want to keep constant cooling spells running." 

He drained the rest of his fruit concoction. "See? I maintain you're every bit as vain as I; you just dress more for the harbingers-of-doom crowd." 

"I shall never admit any such thing. Everyone _knows_ you're the vain one."

He didn’t deny it, instead saying, “Did you notice the oil lamps?”

I nodded. “All down the halls. In here too. Why do you suppose that is?”

“I can’t imagine. I’d say they were someone prudent ensuring they had backup in case of magical failure if they weren’t being used.”

“The amount of magic I’ve seen being used here, we may as well be back down south. Would these Venatori be some sort of anti-magic cult?”

Dorian gave a bark of laughter. “Venatori? I think not, given they’ve been uniformly devoted to bringing back the glorious days of old Tevinter. Hopefully we’ll discover the secret behind this seemingly determined effort to remake this place in the image of a southern backwater.” 

We spent the next while sampling refreshments and talking about things that had nothing to do with our mission. It helped break the tension, and we just enjoy each other's company that much. I know healthy relationships where both people are truly happy with one another are supposed to be narrative poison for their lack of drama, but too fucking bad. 


	28. A Civilized Meal

"Think it's about dinner time?" 

"Ugh, probably." Dorian sighed. "I'd best start getting ready. Can't be seen wearing what I arrived in." 

"You don't sound very excited." I retrieved my boots from where I'd tossed them. 

"I really don't relish going out of my way to look good for these mouth-breathing refugees from the Blessed Age. Talk about pearls before swine." 

"Now is that any way to talk about swine? I'm sure the average swine has far more sterling qualities than our hosts." 

"They certainly have better taste." 

"On the whole, though, they're more likely to be a boar." 

He raised an eyebrow. "Was that your ham-fisted attempt at humour?" 

"You, ser, are bacon to be put in your place." 

We carried on with that until we ran out of puns (I'll spare you the details) while Dorian assembled something suitably magisterial out of his travelling trunk, shaved, re-spelled his moustache (he told me once he used to wax it until someone taught him the spell that would do the same thing with less mess) and meticulously put himself together. 

I strapped on leather, looked in the mirror, decided I didn't need to shave since I was trying to look threatening, and settled on bringing my hunting knife and just one crossbow since we were supposed to act friendly. I may have a touch more vanity than I admit to, but mine is still much lower maintenance than his. 

**~~**

Excuse me, but I absolutely must cut in here for _one moment_ to add that Ser Low Maintenance also took the time to freshen his eyeliner.

**~~**

Okay: One time. This is the only explanation I'll give. It brings out my eyes. They are my best feature. It also gives me a more intense look because my eyebrows are also black. I like the effect. Happy now? 

When the servant came to the door to let us know dinner would be soon, we were already prepared. We indulged in a drink each while we waited for the woman to come back and lead us to the dining room. Neither of us had high hopes for the meal.  
  
The dining room was on the second floor of the main building. The floor was covered with straw mats in keeping with their old-timey obsession. At least they’d stopped short of rushes. 

The table looked like it seated about twenty; it was some kind of dark hardwood. There were not twenty people at the table. Once again they'd chosen to go with torches and oil lamps for lighting like some sort of Fereldan dog-lord. 

"They’re really carrying this devotion to primitivity too far," Dorian murmured. 

"Agreed. This is not making me nostalgic for the south." We pasted on our best neutrally friendly faces and walked forward to greet our hosts. 

In addition to the three we'd already met, there were nine others. I recognized five of them from the information packet — all members of Maltho's inner circle. It was the other four I was interested in. They didn't have the same look and there'd been nothing in the packet on them. Brief introductions were made (I didn't recognize any of the four's names) as we were escorted to our seats. Maltho was of course at the head of the table. They'd placed Dorian at the corner to his left, with Celestina in the same spot on his right. 

I was next to Dorian (I don't think I was originally meant to be, as they seemed to be aiming for a boy-girl-boy-girl motif, but I stared down the poor servant until he moved out of the way and let me sit) with Drusus Pansa across from me. To my left was one of the mystery guests: Aemilia Vedrix, no title or explanation for her presence. Beneath her formalwear she looked more muscular than your average Tevinter noblewoman. Her light brown hair was cut short and I could see faint evidence of an unfortunate acne problem in her past. The other three were seated in no particular order amid Maltho's crew farther down the table where we wouldn't be able to study them. 

They got into serving the food right away; no getting-to-know-you drinks first. The food was unspectacular but not awful. They went heavy on the meats, potatoes and gravy motif. For vegetables there were carrots and a local version of turnips they called _oxroot_. It was just as ghastly as any turnip (I'd taken a few cautious spoonfuls) so I pushed it aside and stuck to the carrots, which were overcooked but interestingly spiced. 

Once everyone was done eating and the drink was starting to flow, the night became an interesting exercise in improvisational play-acting. 

Dorian was pretending to drink much more than he actually was, and acting increasingly vapid as the night wore on. As we'd hoped, that seemed to please Maltho no end, and he grew increasingly expansive in the sorts of things he was willing to say to Dorian. 

I missed a great deal of those exchanges, as I was trying to sound out Aemilia Vedrix while Maltho's head of policing tried to do the same to me. 

"So, I'm sorry, but I don't seem to have caught — what should I call you?" he said. 

"Kai's fine," I answered. We had debated whether I should use my real name, but to be honest, my Inquisitor days were far behind me now and I never had ascended far enough in the public eye to be a household name. Even at the height of my so-called fame I was more often referred to by my job title or the hated _Herald of Andraste_ appellation. We agreed anyone who recognized me now would probably already be aware of our relationship; in Tevinter, Dorian was more likely to be recognized. 

I turned to Vedrix. "Speaking of which, do you have a title by which we should be addressing you?" 

She gave me a cool smile. "Aemilia's fine." 

"Are you attached to Magister Pavus, then?" Pansa asked me. 

"I've been with him for years," I said truthfully and unhelpfully. "So Aemilia, I gather that you and your friends aren't from here?" 

"You gather correctly." She sipped her glass of wine. 

"He ascended to the Magisterium quite recently, didn't he? Something about his father being assassinated?" Pansa persisted despite my attention being obviously elsewhere. 

"That's right. It was a few years ago," I said. 

"Ugly business, that," he observed. 

"Assassinations usually are," Aemilia said. 

"So if it doesn't violate some oath, what do you do for the magister?" Pansa said. 

I looked at him expressionlessly and said, "I fix things." 

Hey, I wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to use the line. Though you would swear Dorian was raptly listening to Maltho, I know he heard me because he kicked my ankle. 

"Sounds fascinating," Aemilia said. "Magisters have a lot of things that need fixing, then?" 

I said, "You’d be surprised. So what do you do that brings you to this place?" 

"Hm. I study things," she said with another faint smile. "I've been studying this place. Right now I'm studying you." 

"Learning much?" 

She sipped wine again. "Perhaps." 

"Perhaps isn't much of an answer," I said. 

Her eyes were an oddly dull shade of green. I studied the hand with which she was holding her wine glass. Unlike typical society brats with their perfect manicures, Aemilia's nails were cut short. There was a trace of something black beneath a few of them. 

"I'd hate you to think me lacklustre," she was saying. "Shall I dazzle you?" 

"I don't dazzle easily." 

"I believe that. Nor do I." She set her glass down, planted her elbows on the table with her hands loosely clenched, pressing together at the second knuckle, and propped her chin on the backs of her fingers. She smiled faintly. "You're not originally from Tevinter." 

"I'm also not dazzled. What leads you to that conclusion?" 

"You still have a trace of Marches accent." 

Damn. That was the second person to tell me that. Not that it was a terrible thing, but I was starting to feel strange about it. "The Marches was a long time ago. Do your friends study things too?" I favoured the people in question with a jaundiced look. "Frankly, they don't appear to be the scholarly sort." 

"I can only speak for myself, just as I'm sure you wouldn't presume to speak for your magister. They may not be scholarly, but they perform useful services." She put her hands down, reached over, and traced one finger down the back of my right hand. "Not a lot of people move _to_ Tevinter, you know." 

"Not a lot of people come to Castra Nicia either." I didn't acknowledge her finger, which was now travelling back up my hand. 

She laughed. "I like you, Kai. You may not be all style over substance. Would you care to continue this dance privately?" 

I smiled back. "I think not, Aemilia. I suspect you know the local dances better than I, and I'd hate to misstep." 

"Fair enough." She nodded, taking her finger away and picking up her wine glass again. "A shame, though. As you can see, there is limited opportunity for intelligent conversation here, let alone dancing with any finesse." 

"Which again leads me to wonder what the attraction is that you came here at all, let alone that you remain." 

"Ah, but if you wanted to play that, you'd have to match me fact for fact." She cocked her head to the left, smiling playfully. 

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that the way it works?" 

"Oh, yes," she said with exaggerated sincerity. "It's not fair otherwise." 

"And can one choose not to answer?" 

"Only if one wants to end the game. We'd have to both answer whatever the other asks." 

"Sounds dangerous," I said. 

"That's the fun of it." 

"And you might lie." 

"You expect me to believe you'd be above such a thing?" 

I gave her a half-smile. "I don't really know you well enough to care what you believe."

She gave me a narrow smile back. “Barbed honesty at a social function? Awfully daring of you, Kai.”

“I grew weary of treacly insincerity some time ago. I’m trying something new.” 

"If your magister is half as clever as you are, this little meeting of yours tomorrow should be interesting." 

"Does that mean you'll be attending?" 

She wagged her index finger at me. "Now that would be telling. I may be making a simple observation." 

"I doubt anything about you is simple, Aemilia." 

"You're a flatterer, Kai. You're also far more cultured than the look you cultivate would suggest. I wonder what you did down in the Free Marches." 

I took a sip of my own drink (vodka mixed with something fizzy and slightly tart). "That would be telling. It's probably much less interesting than you imagine." 

"I've never heard of boredom driving anyone to Tevinter." 

"May I ask how long you've been here in Castra Nicia?" 

"Hm." She ran one finger around the rim of her wine glass, "Longer than a month, less than a year. Further specificity demands you answer something for me in return." 

"What do you want to know?" 

"So very many things, but for now I'll just ask what they expect you and your magister to do here?" 

"Find out what happened to our earlier envoys, of course. Don't suppose you'd care to tell me." 

Matching my tone, she said, "Don't suppose I'd know. Next question." 

We waited as servants came around to refresh our drinks. I looked around the dining hall and said, "Have they had this moratorium on magic the entire time? I can't help but notice we might as well be living in Ferelden." 

She chuckled. "It is rather annoying, I agree, but it's necessary." 

"You do know I'm going to ask why." 

"This is part of my answer, not my next question: How much do you know about higher magic, Kai? Have your years with the Magister taught you anything about it?" 

I shrugged. "I know enough that you don't need to provide lengthy explanations." 

"Very good." She looked at me measuringly. "More proof there's likely more to you than you let on. Well, there is some high-level magical research being carried out here in the compound. It necessitates limiting the amount of magical activity outside the research area. Don't want to inadvertently trigger anything or interfere with an important safeguard, you understand?" 

"Yes. I don't suppose you'd care to tell me what sort of magical research?" 

"I don't have enough questions for you to make that exchange of information worthwhile to me." She smiled without showing teeth. 

Our conversation was cut short as Maltho stood to announce he was making a toast to Dorian (what he actually said was _our esteemed visitor from Minrathous_ , and he slurred that slightly). 

We raised our glasses and drank. Then Pansa, who had taken my snub in stride and transferred his attentions to the woman seated next to him, rose to give his own toast _to Castra Nicia_. 

Dorian then rose to salute _all the good people of Castra Nicia_. I nearly started laughing because I knew what he really meant, and Aemilia was looking at him speculatively. Everyone else took the toast at face value and cheered enthusiastically except Aemilia's friends, who looked bored. 

Maltho stood again, newly filled glass half raised, and began drunkenly, "When I think back on my early years here in Castra Nicia—"

Sensing a speech and excessive toasting looming, I stood and cut in smoothly. "Excuse me, Prefect, but I believe it is time Magister Pavus retire to his quarters. He will need time to prepare before the meeting tomorrow." 

Dorian obliged me by stifling a burp and raising his glass in a wobbly salute. 

Celestina, who had nursed a single glass of wine all night, gave Dorian a disapproving look then speared Maltho (who had used the time since he was interrupted to down half his drink) with a venomous glare. "Quite. The Prefect needs to retire as well.”

“He certainly does,” Maltho agreed.

The muscles in her jaw clenched. "If anyone wishes to continue visiting, the blue room is open two doors down." 

I 'helped' Dorian to his feet. He set his glass on the table and essayed an elaborate bow to Celestina; I 'caught' him before he overbalanced. 

"A grand meal, my lady. Do give my regards to the chef. Prefect, you are neither a gentleman nor a scholar, yet I salute you." 

The Prefect roared with laughter at that, making me wonder what I missed. I made a great show of getting Dorian to drape an arm over my shoulders, put an arm around his waist and walked him unsteadily out of the room. We kept the act up all the way to our suite. 

Once the door was firmly closed, locked and warded behind us, Dorian straightened, pulled me into a kiss then headed for the bedroom to change clothes. I went to the private room, removed all my leather accoutrements and boots, grabbed a beer from the liquor cabinet and dropped into one of the overstuffed armchairs. 

Dorian came in shortly after, now wearing trousers and a loose, pullover shirt I recognized as mine (I'd gotten several after I lost my arm and things like buttons and laces became a challenge). 

"I couldn't find anything comfortable; it's all buried at the bottom of my chest," he explained. "I'll think I'll join you in a beer. I've been pretending to inhale wine all night and I'm heartily sick of the smell at this point." He acquired one and thudded onto the divan with a groan. "That. Was. Excruciating." 

"From what I saw, you were brilliant. Maltho seemed quite fond of you at the end." 

"Of course he was. He found himself a _drinking buddy_. Oh, the stories he had to tell. Did you know he once single-handedly saved the town from an entire Qunari?" 

"An entire Qunari what?" 

"Oh no, amatus, that was it," he said, raising his bottle in a mock salute. "One entire Qunari. Apparently the poor devil was fishing, got caught up in a rogue current and deposited on the point. Maltho marched right down accompanied by no one but half a dozen armed guards and demanded the fellow get back in his boat and go back to Seheron before he got sent back in pieces." 

"And here we thought he'd been appointed prefect because his aunt is a senior Magister. I take it the Qunari left?" 

"Wouldn't you?" 

"Was it like that the entire time?" 

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Very nearly. The man is so _agreeable_ you begin wanting to throttle him. I suppose you were trading clever ripostes with the lady to your left, full of hidden nuance and danger?" 

"Well, actually…" 

He sat up higher, giving me a narrow-eyed glare. "You did, didn't you? While I was suffering, you were getting to construct double meanings while acting _interesting._ " 

"Yes?" I tried not to smirk. "She propositioned me. Not that I think she was interested that way; I probably would have woken up drugged and murdered." 

"Don't go trying to make me feel better. And don't think I didn't hear you use That Line again." 

"I know you heard me. You _kicked_ me." I gave him a wounded look. 

"For having entirely too much fun while I entertained Bumpkin and the Ice Queen. You'd have done the same." 

"Did you at least learn anything?" 

"Hmnh. Maltho's an ass and unimaginative as a stump, but he's not stupid. He also has no ability whatever to mask his emotions. Odd man." 

"I noticed that." 

"So — as his Qunari story suggests, he's a coward at heart. Probably why he was happy to take this assignment. But he's hiding something that's giving him the courage to thumb his nose at the Archon himself. When he was assuring me there was nothing untoward going on here, his face kept twitching like an eight-year-old trying not to giggle." 

"That does not conjure a pleasant picture. Aemilia, the lady next to me, informed me that she, personally was here _studying_ things. She wouldn't say what. However, she did solve the mystery of why there's no magic to be seen in the compound." 

"Do tell." 

"There is, and I quote, _high-level magical research_ being done somewhere in the building. What kind I don't know, but you can bet she and her friends are arse-deep in it." 

"My, my. That bears looking into, I'd say. What do you suppose they're up to that would necessitate such safeguards?" 

"I assume we're going to find out whether they like it or not. Did you get _anything_ from Maltho?" 

"Well, Maltho takes his job watching for invaders very seriously, believe it or not. He regrets not being able to send in his reports — apparently he's aces at writing them — but said that's part of the way things are now. Sadly, he wouldn't elaborate beyond the stock _no more kowtowing to Minrathous_ line." 

"Kowtowing? They handed him a cushy job and left him alone as long as he sent his reports." 

"Apparently someone suggested he modernize." 

"None of this explains where the other envoys disappeared to." 

"I suspect we'll find that out tomorrow." Dorian yawned. "I do hope it's not something tiresome like a pit full of hungry gurguts." 

His yawn triggered one of my own. "Maker, stop that. It's too early to sleep." 

"You think? You know we're likely facing a day full of treachery tomorrow." 

"You didn't get anything else? What about the Ice Queen?" 

"Amatus, I'm afraid _you_ had all the fun tonight." He yawned again. "Ugh. I do feel rather done in at this point." 

"Well, I suppose I could try to sleep," I allowed. "But I'm not promising anything." 

We finished our drinks and I followed him into the bedroom. Apparently I was more tired than I thought, because the next thing I knew there was weak light filtering into the room and my left side hurt because I'd been lying on it too long (ever since I got injured years ago it does that). I rolled over and went back to sleep. 


	29. Perfidiae

A few hours later we had no choice but to get up. The meeting wasn't until mid-morning, but Dorian had to look properly grand and I needed coffee. 

I was attaching my arm when Dorian came thudding into the bedroom looking rumpled and exasperated. 

"I know they're keeping things primitive here, but this is ridiculous," he announced. 

"Now what have they done? Is the coffee here?" I flexed my left hand, watching to see that it worked properly. It always does, but I still check. 

"No, _nothing's_ here. They don't have a spell-trigger to call a servant. They have a _bell-pull_ ; can you believe it?" 

I yawned. "Did you pull the bell?" 

"Yes, and thus far I appear to have been ignored. I even unlocked the door." 

"Set fire to the hallway. That oughta bring them running." 

"If someone doesn't show in the next five minutes I might. _Fasta vass!_ " He stomped back out of the room. 

I used the facilities and washed up, hoping that was sufficient time for someone to arrive. I could hear Dorian talking and someone answering when I re-entered the suite. The door shut and he found me in our 'private' room. "Well? Is there coffee?" I asked. 

"There are times your single-mindedness before you get your morning fix worries me," he complained. "It's on its way. Finally. I ordered us breakfast as well; I have no wish to fraternize with the locals before I must." 

"It's that sort of sound judgment that makes me adore you all the more," I said. "Did they say how long? I want to shave." 

"The official word is _soon_. Go ahead, I'll call you. I've much more preparation to do than you, so better if you go first. What next? Will they be bringing us bathwater in buckets?" 

I left him sorting through his wardrobe and returned to the washroom, where I shaved my head but didn't worry about my face. For the look I was fostering, three days' growth of beard was fine. I timed my return perfectly, as a couple of servants were depositing trays with coffee and food on a table in the main room. We took what we wanted and returned to the private room. 

"You might want to take a weapon today, as well as your staff," I said to Dorian. 

He looked up from spreading jam on his toast. "That's a bit much, isn't it?" 

"People do keep disappearing here. I'm just saying. If they separate us, you might need something pointy and lethal. I found out the hard way last year there are ways to cut us off from our magic." 

That experience had rattled me more than I let on. It wasn't just the loss of my magic; it was that I'd nearly been killed by something I could have bested easily if I'd had it. After that I'd gotten serious about learning to use a few conventional weapons. 

A quick frown crossed his face as he went back to his toast. He refused to tell me much about it, but it had been horrible for him too when I'd fallen through his eluvian more than half dead. 

"That is a more sensible suggestion than I care to admit. How many do you suppose it takes to conduct this magical research?" 

"I'm guessing Aemilia and her study group aren't the only ones involved." 

"At this point I wouldn't be surprised if they were being controlled by Fen'Harel's resentful younger brother and a coterie of dancing desire demons. How's your coffee?" 

"Surprisingly good. Are you all right with me continuing to play bodyguard today?" 

"It seems to be working. Not to mention, this rough trade look you have going is working for _me_." 

"So no matter what this trip wasn't a dead loss." I smirked. "You know, I'd pay to see a coterie of dancing desire demons." 

"There is one problem with your suggestion that I include something pointy as an accoutrement," he said between bites. "I don't have anything that fits that description." 

"I brought extra." 

He squinted at me. "Amatus, don't you think you may be carrying this roguish mage persona a tad too far? You're starting to sound like Sera with her arrows." 

I poured myself more coffee while I considered his question. "Maybe. I don't know. That…really fucked me up last year. I don't want to be caught unprepared like that again. I suppose I do have a tendency to get obsessive about things." 

He laughed. "You _suppose_? Don't worry, I understand. Considering what the Archon seems to have planned for us, it's probably for the best." 

I blinked at him as a thought occurred to me. "You don't suppose part of the reason he's volunteered you for this is to distract you from the Lucerni, do you?" 

He set his fork down, his expression mirroring my own. " _Venhedis._ I certainly _do_ suppose. It makes perfect sense. He gets exactly what he wants on every level. We need to talk to Mae when we get back, let her know what's going on." 

"We'll do that." 

"I also want it on record that I refuse to write him an essay on _What I Did on My Summer Holidays_ since he orchestrated the majority of it." 

"Duly noted. I'll slap Alectius if he suggests it. I'll also get you that extra knife I brought as soon as I finish this coffee. You'll like it. It's a spring-action stiletto — very sleek and sneaky." 

"You've restored my faith in you. If you're going to be bristling with hidden weaponry it should at the very least be aesthetically pleasing. You know what would be truly ironic? If they're all terribly polite and nothing untoward happens." He poured himself a cup of coffee and dumped sugar in it. 

"Yeah. That'll happen. We really should get a cat. Swivet could use a friend if we're going to be gone bloody great lengths of time." 

Dorian snort-laughed. "Well _that_ was a non-sequitur. If you want one that badly, I suppose I don't see the harm." 

We didn't discuss the upcoming meeting after that; there was no point in over-thinking it. While Dorian tended to his grooming and wardrobe, I downed the last of the coffee and got the knife for him. Then it was just a matter of putting on my boots and equipping all the leather and weapons. I checked myself in the mirror and decided I looked very non-magey. 

While I waited I cast extra hardening spells on my weapons and outerwear, then spelled some more bolts so they'd do more than just poke holes in people when I fired them. I figured the hardening spells I was using were low-powered enough that they wouldn’t interfere with whatever experiment was using all the magic. As nothing exploded and no one came screaming in to find out who was using magic, I’d say I got away unnoticed. 

When Dorian finally emerged from the bedroom, I looked him over and gave a low, appreciative whistle. He'd gone with a vaguely martial cut outfit primarily in red and black (I'm sure he'd groan at my inept description) that looked both dramatic and slightly threatening. It also looked damn good on him and I told him so. He slid the holdout knife into his boot, practiced brandishing it a few times and declared himself ready. Now it was just a matter of waiting to be shown to the meeting itself. 

=#= 

We were escorted to a largish, circular chamber at the back of the main floor of the main building. It was ringed with decorative white pillars about a third of the way in, with white benches set in between them. There was a round table in the centre of the room with nine rather ostentatious chairs placed around it. The chairs were dark wood, oversized, and carved with a delicate motif of dragons and firebirds. The seats and backs were upholstered with a rich, red material that looked like crushed velvet. And no one was sitting in them.

Maltho, Celestina Civilus and Drusus Pansa were already there, standing at the far end like children at their first mixed dance. Behind them I could see one large, throne-like chair taking up most of the space between two pillars. Armed guards were stationed at every other pillar. 

Dorian gave our reluctant hosts a regal, businesslike nod and said, "Good morning. I trust everyone is here?" 

"Actually, we are waiting for a few latecomers. Our apologies for the delay," said Celestina. They made no move to approach the meeting table. One of the guards closed the door through which we'd just entered. 

I scanned the room. There was another door at the end where our hosts were clustered; they were all glancing at it frequently. 

"I'd say whatever surprise they have in store for us will be walking through that door," I murmured to Dorian. 

"However did you arrive at that conclusion? These people telegraph nothing," he deadpanned back. 

"I have to say, even for a backwater, their lack of basic professionalism and protocol is verging on shocking," I said. 

"As in it could be a result of whatever is going on here? I quite agree." 

Five increasingly awkward minutes passed. No one suggested we sit or open proceedings or even spoke to us; it was as if they had no idea how to proceed. When that door opened I would have given a mental cheer no matter who or what was behind it. 

Dorian said loudly, "I say, is this standard procedure for Castra Nicia's high-level meetings?" 

"Our apologies. This must look dreadful to you, but we really cannot proceed until the others get here," Celestina said. I wondered if there was a reason she was doing all the talking. 

A few more minutes crawled by before the door opened. I wasn't terribly surprised to see Aemilia Vedix and her three friends come through, but there was a sensation of more activity than should have been around them. 

" _Don't notice me_ spells," Dorian said softly. "There are more people entering than we're meant to notice." 

"Mm hm. I don't think you'll be talking concessions and trade issues today," I said just as softly. "Round room; we've just been neatly surrounded. How stupid do they think we are?" 

"We're about to find out. Will you look at that…" 

_That_ was a man clad in somewhat battered Templar armour who strode into the room and took position about ten feet away from us. 

To our hosts Dorian said, "Is that everyone? May we begin now?" 

"Nearly everyone, Magister," one of the male dinner guests said. He was plain-looking, with mousy brown hair and blue eyes, and I couldn't remember his name. Aemilia caught my eye and winked. I didn't wink back.  
  
"So who do you figure we're waiting for now? Another demigod with visions of world domination?" I said for his ears only. 

"Nothing would surprise me," he whispered back. The door opened again. Dorian's eyes widened and he muttered, "Oh, shit." 

I took it that something just surprised him. 

A woman walked into the room. She was rather short, with dark auburn hair and a killer figure (if you go for that sort of thing). Her complexion was a few shades lighter than Dorian's, her eyes a sort of pale green. I guessed her age to be vaguely thirtyish. She was wearing an elaborate set of robes and carrying a staff topped with a very angry-looking carved dragon. 

" _Now_ we can begin," Celestina said happily. One of the dinner guests glared at her. 

"Yes, we can," the woman said. She walked over to the throne and sat, smiling as her eyes lit on Dorian. "You know, I read it, but I didn't quite believe it. Of all the Magisters they could have sent to our little outpost. Hello, Dorian." 

"Hello, Livia. You're looking well," he said. 

"As are you. Very dashing, I must say." She waved a hand and her followers dropped their _don't notice me_ spells. There were at least a dozen of them — half with weapons, the other half with staffs. "I heard you'd taken over daddy's seat in the Magisterium. Shame about his death." 

"Yes, it was," Dorian said mildly. 

"Aldrich, check the Magister and take his staff, please. Tobias, if you would deal with the bodyguard." 

The templar moved forward and took Dorian's staff. Dorian looked at him sharply but said nothing. 

I got momentarily distracted as a small, ratty man with a fringe of hair clinging to the sides of his head circled me. 

"This one reeks of magic too," he said. 

The woman rolled her eyes. "Of course he does. I'm sure every single thing he's wearing is spelled to a fare-thee-well. Just take his weapons." 

He did as she commanded, removing my knife, crossbows and bolts. He carried them all out the rear door. She smiled. "There, that's better. Have a seat, Dorian. Let's chat." 

"May he sit too?" Dorian indicated me. "Seeing as he can't dangerously loom over anything at the moment?" 

She waved a nonchalant hand. "Whatever you like. He's not really tall enough to loom _over_ anyone, is he?" 

"He makes up for it in other ways." 

We spun the chairs closest to her so they were facing her rather than the table and sat. I said to Dorian, "I gather you know this lady?" 

"I do indeed. This is Livia Herathinos. At one time, she was my betrothed." 

I said, "Ah." There didn't seem much else to say. He'd told me about that, of course. Their parents had made the match. For the two of them it had been dislike at first sight, and subsequent meetings had done little to change either's first impression. 

"This is an unexpected reunion. I see you've found yourself a new avocation," Dorian said. 

"Oh, it's much more than that. Oddly enough, I have you to thank for it," Livia replied. 

"Me? How might that be? I don't recall _how to start your own cult_ being one of the subjects we ever discussed." 

"It was what you _did_. All that talent. All that opportunity. And all you had to do was follow tradition and marry someone you disliked and were utterly uninterested in. And _I_ was prepared to do it because that's what we _all_ do. I complained, but I never once considered saying to the void with them and refusing to play. You _did_. At the time I thought you were mad." 

"You weren't the only one." Dorian smiled faintly. 

"Well, then you disappeared and do you know what I did? I _sat_ there like a compliant sack of potatoes while my parents went about arranging another marriage for me. Do you know who they picked? _Flavius Scrofa!"_

"I take it that's a bad thing? It sounds like a communicable disease," I said to Dorian. 

"It may as well be. Flavius Scrofa was a loud, unpleasant blob of a man. Magister, of course, from an impeccable bloodline. He'd never managed to father any children, but he kept trying, and because of that bloodline, parents kept offering their daughters up to him. He was about a thousand years old when he finally died." He looked at Livia. "I take it you refused?" 

She scowled. "No, I did what they wanted and married the bastard. Imagine my shock and dismay when he dropped dead a few months later." 

"I'm getting the distinct impression he may have received some aid in shuffling off this mortal coil?" Dorian said. 

"You may draw whatever conclusions you wish. I concluded I'd had enough of the whole disgusting system. Within a month, my parents were hinting about that I should try again — just long enough to produce a child or two — and that was the last straw. I decided there was no reason I couldn't do what you did, especially when I started hearing things about you resurfacing down in the south doing just fine for yourself. Mind you, I wanted to do something a little more impactful than your personal quest for self-determination and cock." 

"Now that was uncalled for," Dorian objected. 

She smirked. "I note you didn't say untrue." 

He rolled his eyes but let it go. "So you decided the best manner to go about building yourself a new identity was to form a cult?" 

"This is not a cult," she snapped. "The Venatori were a cult. I thought they stood for something when I joined them, but they weren't trying to bring back the glory of Tevinter; they were just a gaggle of thugs and malcontents using idealism as an excuse to behave badly. I wasn't at all surprised at how quickly they fell to pieces. _We_ are the Venatori Rectus, and we _are_ going to change things." 

"Oh? And how do you intend to do that?" Dorian said blandly. 

"All in good time, Magister. I didn't actively keep tabs on you, you know, but I kept _hearing_ about you. While I was working my _arse_ off trying to build the Venatori Rectus into something meaningful, you just waltzed back up from doing whatever you were doing with the barbarians and _boom!_ Daddy dies and you're a Magister." 

"My father was assassinated." He gave her a flat stare. 

"Oh, I don't doubt that. It just seems even when _bad_ things happen to you, you end up benefitting. You team up with that Tilani woman to form a dissident sect in the Magisterium and people complain but you get away with it. No censure, no mysterious accidents; you even start getting some positive notoriety out of it." She shifted forward in her seat to glare at him. "Then you pull the same kind of stunt you did when you blew off our betrothal and announce to the Magisterium that you're throwing over centuries of tradition and obligation and officially taking up with another man. And do they eject you from the Magisterium? Assassinate _you?_ Of course not! You just carry on as always and now you're getting entrusted with diplomatic missions? Dorian Pavus, you are unbe _lievable_." 

He tilted his head to one side, the picture of confusion, "So…you're angry with me for being too successful? I mean, I can't help being blessed with style, wit and a surfeit of good taste, but you seem to be under the impression that all the rest of it came easily to me as well." 

"I'm not angry; I just find you exasperating. So did you leave the husband at home while you do important things for your Archon and country?" 

Dorian shrugged. "You may draw whatever conclusions you wish." 

She snorted. "Well, no matter. I'm sure he'll miss you eventually." 

"Finally getting to the crux of things, are we?" 

"We are." She gave him a tight smile. "I imagine you've been wondering why these people are living like a pack of southern primitives." 

"Among other things. There is the question of where the previous envoys have gone, since they never arrived back home. And why does everything here look like it was last updated in the Blessed Age?" 

"That last one is the Prefect's fault. Apparently he _likes_ it this way. We'll get around to changing that soon enough. The other two questions are interconnected. You see, we have other uses for magic than lighting the hallways and calling the servants. We also require mages. Specifically, we need mages with the levels of power that you and I have if possible. The envoys had decent levels of power, but nothing like yours." She gave a small bark of laughter. "Guess there's something to our breeding programmes after all." 

I took a calculated risk and said, "Excuse me for interrupting, but do you think you might get to the point sometime soon? You obviously have something in mind now that you've had your walk down memory lane." 

She gave me a look of pure venom. "Is he always this forward, Dorian?" 

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Ask him; I don't speak for him. And he does have a valid question." 

Her lip curled slightly. "Fine. You want the point? The point is, Aldrich here used to be a templar. Now we provide him with the lyrium he needs and he works for us. He's currently blocking your magic and will continue until we tell him to stop. We're going to put you through the same process that the good prefect, your precious envoys and many others have undergone. If it works, you'll join us. If it doesn't, well, we'll have learned more about it and I can no longer complain that you seem to lead a charmed life."

I wondered whose magic Aldrich was blocking. He couldn’t be doing an area block, because that would affect Livia and her followers, which meant he was doing specific targeting. Now I’d find out if I’d successfully fooled them into believing I was just a bodyguard. I very carefully touched my magic, and found it there and ready to use. So Aldrich was concentrating solely on Dorian. Good. 

"And what process is this?" Dorian said as though he found the whole topic dull. 

She grew truly animated for the first time. "Something those blind fools in the Venatori should have been working towards all along. Something the Magisterium has ignored for years. Tell me — what normally happens to a mage when they get possessed?" 

"Hm. Generally speaking, a bit of screaming, some nasty squelching noises and the mage turns into whatever demon was lucky enough to show up," Dorian said. 

"Exactly! That's _usually_ what happens. But not always. You see it most frequently among the Avvar, who have a very different relationship with Fade spirits, but it happens elsewhere as well: _perfect possession_." She paused like she expected a musical flourish to accompany that. For all I know, one was playing in her mind. 

"Yes, I've seen it. What about it?" Dorian stifled a yawn. 

"Don't you see? The perfectly possessed could do what violence can't. If we can get it to work every time, the Venatori Rectus could methodically take people in key positions in, for example, government, and send them back outwardly the same but doing our bidding. It wouldn't take long before we could make some serious changes that would set Tevinter back on the road to glory." 

"You do know perfect possession normally has a voluntary element," Dorian said. 

"Not to mention every time roads to former glory are invoked it inevitably ends badly," I added, earning myself another dirty look. 

She ignored me and answered Dorian, "That's why we needed a place to do research. The voluntary possessions usually seem to be fairly benevolent, ineffective spirits. Well, except that mage that blew up that Chantry down south, but in that case it seems the mage had issues that corrupted the spirit and damaged both of them." 

"And you think you can do better?" 

"Think about it: If we can achieve the perfect possession of mages with something _powerful_ like a spirit of pride or command, something that would retain its human form, but possess the powers of the spirit along with the intelligence of the human and the magical ability of a powerful mage? We could put people in key positions and make _real_ change in Tevinter, not the sort of weak reforms your Lucerni are trying to achieve." 

Dorian didn't actually frown at that slight, but his eyes narrowed. "Oh? And what sort of changes are you envisioning?" 

"Changes that will make Tevinter the power it once was. No more negotiating with barbarians. We take back our empire, then use those forces to crush the Qun once and for all." 

"Ah, so you expect the Qunari will kindly wait for us to take the empire back rather than attempting a few invasions of their own while we're busy doing that?" 

"It's that sort of defeatist attitude that makes involuntary possession necessary," she snapped. 

"You always were a trifle on the dramatic side, Livia, but I had no idea you would take to fanaticism so readily," Dorian said. "I take it the Prefect there is one of your early success stories?" 

Her lip curled. "He's barely more than a hedge wizard. We got a spirit to bond with him, but not one that's any use. It's unimportant." 

"I'm sure it is." Dorian smoothed his moustache and said, "Where are the envoys, Livia? They don't seem to be among your people here." 

"I think that's enough talk for now. Aldrich, keep the Magister blocked." The templar stood close by as two of her soldiers motioned to us to stand. "Bind their hands," she continued, "and take them downstairs." 

The same ratty man who'd said I smelled of magic bound my hands behind me, being none too gentle about it. He, the templar and two other guards prodded us out the back door. The rest stayed with Livia. Aemilia gave a small shrug as we passed her; I ignored her. 


	30. In the Dungeons

They marched us down a long flight of stairs. Dorian and I looked at each other, but weren’t able to say anything with all the people around us.  I had to assume his magic was being blocked, but had no way of asking him. I could only hope ‘downstairs’ didn’t mean they were going to attempt this perfect possession right away. 

The stairs disembarked in a fairly typical-looking dungeon: long hall, stone floor, spotty lighting, and heavy wooden doors down it at intervals. 

They took us to a room midway down the hall; a chair and small table were set up a short distance from it. As we entered, the templar parked himself on the chair. Ratty slammed the door behind us and made a great show of noisily locking it. 

It was pitch dark in there, so I cast a soft light, proving the templar was concentrating solely on Dorian. 

It appeared they may have been using the place as the local jail — there were benches along two of the walls that were remarkably dust-free and a collection of pithy sayings scrawled on the walls. Further investigation revealed a hole in the floor to allow one to relieve oneself. We sat on one of the benches and I cast a spell to muffle sound so we could talk.

“Am I right that you’re being blocked?” I asked.

Dorian nodded, scowling. “Most effectively. I now agree with your strategy of wanting to be underestimated and overlooked. Weren’t you taking a bit of a chance, casting just now?”

“I was counting on him concentrating on you. I’m sure they told him how powerful you are.  We need to neutralize him as soon as possible.” 

"That shall be first on the agenda the moment we escape. Do we now attempt to untie one another's hands?" Dorian asked, eyeing the walls with academic interest. 

"No need. Just give me a minute." 

I gave my left arm the mental command to let go. It took a few minutes to twist my arm enough to pull it out of the prosthesis, but once I'd done that I was able to bring my right arm around, the prosthesis still bound to it at the wrist.  I pulled the holdout knife I’d given Dorian from its sheath in his boot. Another five minutes and I'd gotten the ropes off. I reattached my forearm and freed Dorian's hands. 

"You know, this is the first time I've had reason to appreciate losing my arm," I said, returning the knife to him. 

"It did give this an adventuresome, secret weapony sort of feeling," Dorian agreed with a smile. "My staff and your weapons were tossed rather haphazardly into the cell next to this one; it appears they're using some of these as storerooms." 

"Good spotting. Were we supposed to find the hole in the floor by scent alone, do you think?" 

"It really is inconsiderate of them. So do we have a plan? I think we really should have a plan." 

"Well, we know they're not going to keep us in here forever, so I'd say it should involve getting our things back when they come to take us wherever they're taking us. Unless they intend to take you and kill me, in which case I'd prefer we save my life first." 

"Of course. I'm hardly going to take on an entire cult by myself. I detest that sort of grandstanding." 

I affected shocked disbelief. " _You_ detest grandstanding?" 

"When it's the sort that will result in certain death, yes. I have _standards_ , you know. Do you suppose we'll have to storm their inner sanctum whilst they're in the midst of something fiendish?" 

"It's possible. Of course, we could just try to escape and get to the garrison." 

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Please. Next you'll be suggesting we call Alectius to ask for help." 

"Just joking. Of course we'll storm their sanctum and disrupt their evil machinations." I grinned. "Of course, if they're not in there at the time, we're going to look rather silly." 

"I'm trusting they're the busy sort of cultists who won't let a good sanctum sit idle for long." 

"First we need to take the templar out." 

"I don't see that he's done anything to earn himself a night on the town with us." 

I gave him a mock glare. "That was dreadful. We should probably discuss this seriously for at least a few minutes." 

We did, and agreed on a few basic actions depending on who and how many came to get us. We took turns at the hole, wondering aloud how they'd expected us to accomplish that with our hands tied behind our backs, then sat back down and read the walls. 

We were just starting to get bored when we heard the key rattling in the lock. We put our hands behind our backs and I dismissed my light and muffling spells. 

The door opened and a woman said, " _Fasta vass,_ you idiots didn't give them a light? Well, go get one. _Yes,_ now." 

She walked in a cast a light of her own; I was mildly surprised to see it was Aemilia. "Sorry about that," she said. "We had no idea they'd left you in the dark." 

"You could let us go and we could call it even," Dorian suggested. 

I said, "Hello, Aemilia. I don't suppose you've come to do that?" 

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Sorry, boys. Livia has plans. Once she's done, you'll be joining us of your own free will, Magister." 

"You do appreciate the irony of that statement, I hope," Dorian said drily. 

"And where do I fit into these plans?" I asked. 

"I don't really know," she said, her eyes darting to the left before settling on us again. "Ah, here we go."  

She took the torch someone handed her and lodged it in a wall sconce, dismissing her own light as she did. "I just wanted to let you know someone will be coming for you shortly. Sorry about having to keep you tied up, but we can't have you attacking the first person to come through this door." She gave me an odd, twitchy little smile. "I also wanted to say I'm sorry we never got the opportunity to continue our dance, Kai. Goodbye." 

She walked out, closing the door with a thud. The key clattered in the lock again. 

I recast the muffling spell. Sitting in silence would have made things even more unbearable. 

"I'd say it's pretty clear what they have planned for me," I said sourly. 

"Blood magic, you think?" 

"What else?" 

"Well, amatus, if they find out what you really are you'll probably be promoted to my fate." He stood and stretched until his shoulders popped. 

"I should hope so. I'm feeling like a second-class citizen at the moment," I groused. "I'm not used to that anymore. I think I shall have to kill some of them in a fit of pique." 

"Isn't that a bit bloodthirsty for mere pique?" 

"Never underestimate pique. Pique has brought down nations. Would you like me to leave Livia to you?" 

He sighed. "I never really liked her — aside from the whole betrothal thing, we just rubbed each other the wrong way —but I'd like to think she might be salvageable. Let's just play that one by ear." 

I stood as well. The bench was hard and the waiting was making me restless. "Wonder what's taking them?" 

"Cults are notoriously bad at punctuality. If I'd known I was going to be locked in a dungeon, I would never have worn this. I'm sure the atmosphere is wreaking havoc on the material." 

"You're welcome to have your own fit of pique. There's plenty to go around," I said as I stretched. "You think they locked the room our things are in?" 

"Hopefully not. I think Aemilia likes you." 

I snorted. "Not enough to let me out. She obviously hasn't read the right sort of books. This waiting is driving me round the bend." 

Dorian circled behind me and massaged my shoulders. "Better?" 

"Mm. It's still driving me round the bend, but yes. Thank you." 

We sat again and continued to wait. 

"You think she would have let you out if you'd slept with her?" Dorian asked. 

I chuckled. "Well, ignoring the fact that nothing would've happened, no. I think even if I'd performed beyond her wildest expectations, she would've thrown me away like a used tissue. I might have gotten a somewhat more sincere sorry before she locked us back in, though." 

"Not even a peck on the cheek?" 

"And get close enough that I could head-butt her? I doubt she's that stupid." 

We lapsed into bored silence. I don't know about Dorian, but I dropped into a light doze for a while. 

Some interminable amount of time later we heard the key and put our hands behind our backs. I banished the muffling spell again and cast a small illusion of ropes I hoped was accurate enough they wouldn't notice. 

A guard walked in and motioned to us to stand and follow him out of the room. In the hall, there was one other guard waiting on the other side of the storeroom door in addition to the templar, who stood as we appeared. Guard One urged us down the hall. The storeroom door was open. Dorian's staff was stuffed in the back corner, but my crossbows were sitting on a wooden table right near the front. We glanced at each other and put our very simple Plan A into motion. 

As Dorian dived into the storeroom, I hit all three of them with flashbangs, following that up with a powerful, branching electrical spell before the templar could recover enough to shut me down. In the few moments before he did, Dorian slammed bolts into my crossbows, dashed back into the hallway and fired them in quick succession into the templar. 

The spelled bolts surpassed even my expectations, punching through his armour as easily as innuendo through an Orlesian’s lips. One lodged in his upper thigh, and the other in his abdomen. He had time to curse before both bolts burst into balls of flame; then he shrieked, a high-pitched animal sound of pain and shock. I fired a narrow force spell at his throat that put a stop to that. 

We hit the other guards with spells that knocked them out cold. Dorian tossed me my crossbows and went back into the storeroom to fetch his staff. I followed to retrieve my knife and extra bolts. 

"Glad you wasted time practicing with these now?" I asked. 

"Positively giddy," he said with a grin. "I have to admit, there was something terribly satisfying about that." 

We locked the two guards and the dead templar in their own prison cell. 

"I suppose we should storm their inner sanctum now," Dorian said. 

"Sneakily, I would add. We're good, but I don't think we're _that_ good," I replied. "Any thoughts on where they're likely to be keeping a sanctum?" 

"Hm. We could wait for one of the guards to wake up, but I imagine someone will come along to see what's keeping us before that happens. Depending on how many, we could either follow them back or seize them and press them into our service." 

We agreed that made more sense than wandering aimlessly, so we cast _don't notice me_ spells and lurked in a suitably darkish alcove near our former cell. 

It wasn't long before we heard someone approaching; I was pleased to see that it was the ratty little bastard who'd tied our hands. We waited until he passed us—stopping in the middle of the corridor as he searched for evidence of his compatriots—then we came up behind him. 

Dorian tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, eyes widening. 

"Hello, Tobias," Dorian said. 

"Shite!" His hand went for what I presumed was a weapon under his coat. 

I cast a binding spell, stopping him in mid-reach. "I don't think so. By the by, you were right about me." 

"Fucking shite. I told her you reeked of magic; it weren't just your clothes and weapons," he said sourly. "So what now?" 

"You take us to wherever they're doing these perfect possessions," Dorian said. "But not through the _front_ door. I'm sure a clever fellow like you knows a few less noticeable routes." 

"And if I don't?" 

I shrugged. "Then we have no use for you, but we can't just let you go now. Think about that." 

He scowled and deliberately spat on the floor. "Fucking mages. Fine. I'll show you. But you let me go soon as I do." 

"So you can let them know precisely where we are? What kind of fools do you take us for?" Dorian said. 

"How about we leave you someplace safe with a binding spell on you so you can't go shouting for help. It'll decay in an hour or so, at which point you're free to go," I said. 

"I only got your word it'll decay, and you got no reason to tell me the truth."

"So don't give us a reason to lie," I countered. 

"If you think you're going to keep us here arguing until reinforcements come, you're sadly mistaken," Dorian said. "Decide. Now." 

"Take the spell off me." 

"Not until you do as we ask," I said. "Surprising as you may find this, we don't trust you." 

He spat again (we discovered it was just a disgusting habit of his, not an act of defiance). "Fine. Let's go. The sooner I'm shut of you, the better. They'll likely kick your poncey arses anyway." 

He led us down the corridor to an intersection where we turned right, then entered a series of narrow corridors that definitely qualified as _the back way_ and were probably only well known to the servants. 

We went down two staircases and another short hallway. Tobias stopped at an apparently blank spot of wall, did something complicated to a few bricks and a concealed doorway opened on another narrow stairway leading up. 

"Goes to an observation corridor what looks down on the chamber where they're doing their things," he said. "I'm not going in there and you can't make me. You two wanna play hero, you leave me out of it." He spat again. 

"Technically, we could make you," Dorian said, "But we won't. Where would you like to wait out your binding spell?" 

Tobias sighed and pointed at a nearby door. "That's a storeroom. Guess it's as good a place as any." 

I led him inside while Dorian kept watch. It really was a storeroom. I told Tobias to make himself comfortable, and once he'd arranged himself atop a pile of carpeting that had seen better decades, I cast a binding spell that would prevent his moving or shouting for about an hour. 

"It'll wear off just like we said," I assured him. 

He just gave me a sour look; I don't suppose I could blame him. 

I shut the door behind me and we ascended the narrow staircase. 

It disembarked into another narrow corridor. There was light coming in at regular intervals. We approached the first lighted area and found it was an opening that looked down on a large chamber. What we saw down there took us both aback. They certainly weren't stinting on magic in that place — the entire area was brilliantly lit and the currents of magic running through and around the chamber made my skin and senses tingle. 

One end of the chamber housed a comprehensive magical workroom. The other… 

"Fuck me, they've opened a permanent bloody Fade rift," I said softly. 

"I am suddenly nostalgic for the days when you could close those things," Dorian said. 

I grunted agreement. "What is it with Venatori and rifts anyway? They just can't seem to leave them alone." 

"The lure of the forbidden? Sublimated death wish? The grass is always greener when the air is too?" Dorian hazarded. 

The thing was in the back corner of the chamber. Someone had constructed a low dais below it and an ornate ironwork gateway around it. They'd left a good ten feet of space in front of the dais and a permanent holding circle was etched into the stone floor. At least they were exercising some caution. 

"I take it that's how they're getting their fade spirits. Was it just me not hearing correctly, or are they just mashing whatever random spirit shows up into their people?" I tried to count how many of them were down there, but our field of view was too narrow. 

"I heard the same. Either they're still in the experimental phase or they're not very bright. Just think — if you could attract a few spirits of apathy and meld them with a few key people, you could end this entire thing." 

"The difficulty being, the apathy spirits couldn't be bothered to investigate their doorway." 

Dorian chuckled. “Do you realize they’re all wearing matching robes?” 

I squinted down at the chamber. "I thought there was something collegiate about them. Looks like something's happening." 

There was a flurry of activity around the rift. Livia and an older man I'd never seen before were standing on either side of the gateway. Two of the dinner guests were stationed not far from them at the base of the dais. They were all wearing blue robes with blood-red trim, which I'm sure made all the difference in the quality of their little exercise, whatever it was. 

There was a rattling noise out of our line of sight that turned out to be two more cultists pushing a gurney with a man strapped to it. 

"The latest volunteer?" Dorian murmured. 

They stopped at the base of the dais, directly in front of the gateway, and turned, looking at something out of our line of sight. 

The something was another of them leading a spell-bound, blindfolded man onto the dais. They forced him to his knees in front of the gateway and conferred with one another for a few moments. One of them lowered the lights, leaving only the area directly above the dais brightly illuminated. 

They once again took up their positions and all but the last cultist began casting a spell. The rift reacted, pulsing and glowing; ribbons of power twined around and through the gateway, so apparently it had a purpose beyond being decorative. 

"Hear that?" Dorian said. 

Now I did. The magic was setting up a sort of eerie harmonic with the gateway, creating a soft, almost musical ululation. As they strengthened their spell, the sound increased, picking up extra harmonies. After a few minutes, we could see indistinct forms gathering around the gateway; spirits of the Fade curious to see what was causing the disturbance in the magical spectrum. 

The volume continued to increase. Now the last cultist pulled out a wicked-looking knife. She grabbed the bound man by the hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. She raised the knife, but before she could deliver the killing blow, the older man stepped behind her with a knife of his own and drove it into her back. She shouted in pain and surprise as he pulled the knife back out. Blood spilled from the wound. As she fell to the ground, the mages redoubled their spellcasting, the gateway shrieked and appeared to seize one of the Fade spirits, pulling it through into our world. Livia, the older man and the two dinner guests cast a new set of spells and the spirit slammed into the man strapped to the gurney. 

The man shouted and lurched against the bonds strapping him down as all the mages turned their attention from the gateway to him, casting another spell. We were too far away to assess exactly what they were casting, but the new one seemed related to the one that drove the spirit into the man. His skin appeared to ripple and his shout became a high-pitched scream. 

For a time nothing seemed to be happening unless you looked into the magical spectrum. They were weaving a complex, incredibly detailed and comprehensive binding spell around and through the man. On a professional level, I wished I could get closer to see precisely what they were doing and how they were doing it. 

"I think they're literally marrying the spirit to him," Dorian said. "But I can't tell if it's to his body or his spirit. We're just too far away. Damn." 

"I know. I'd love to be able to see the details, but all I can tell is it's bloody complex," I agreed. "Not that I want to be on the receiving end of it in any way. You know you're meant to be the next man on the gurney." 

"That is not going to happen. I've done very well being entirely self-possessed and I intend to remain that way." 

"So how do we shut down this dog and pony show? I don't—" I stopped in mid-sentence as they finished the binding. 

Two cultists I hadn't seen previously ascended the dais and set about shutting down the gateway, which was still humming softly to itself. Another led the bound man away as one of the dinner guests cast a healing spell on the stabbed cultist. The others clustered around the man on the gurney. The older man checked his eyes and pulse and nodded. They wheeled the man out of sight, presumably to recover somewhere. The remaining cultists stood in a loose cluster at the base of the dais, chatting and looking pleased with themselves. We couldn't make out what they were saying. 

"They're likely going to start wondering what's happened to you now that they're not busy," I said softly. 

"Us," he corrected. "Admittedly, they're only looking at you as a sacrificial animal at the moment, but it's still us. What do you suppose the bound fellow added to the festivities?" 

"Abject terror? Perhaps that helped attract the sort of spirit they were hoping for?" 

"Sounds reasonable. Shall we see where this corridor leads before someone finds Tobias in the course of their search for us?" 

I nodded and we continued down the narrow gallery. It didn't lead much of anywhere, just circled the room and ended at another staircase heading up. That led to another narrow corridor that dead-ended at a wall. We poked about until we found the mechanism to open its hidden doorway and stepped into a hallway. 

Not having any idea where we might be, we cast _don't notice me_ spells and walked until we found more travelled corridors. We were on the main floor of the building, not far from the entrance. 

"So do we stay or do we go?" I said. 

"I'm a bit torn about that. They do need to be shut down and I'd dearly love to be the ones who do it but…" 

"How many of them are there and how powerful are they?" I finished. " _Venhedis._ I bloody hate the idea of getting hold of Alectius for anything." 

"We could draft some of the soldiers from the garrison to earn their keep. Or not. Damn." He gestured with his head. 

Guards were taking up position at the door, accompanied by one of the dinner guests. 

"We might make it by the guards, but she'd see us in an instant. Plan B?" I said. 

"Plan B it is. Now we just need to make up Plan B. I suggest the first step be fading quietly back down this corridor to less-travelled areas of the building." 

We faded, beating a leisurely retreat until we found a back corridor that looked unused and smelled faintly of cabbage. 

"Think they know I'm a mage?" I said. 

"We'd best assume they do. So how do you want to play this since going for backup isn't an option?" 

I leaned against the wall. "We need to close that rift, which means getting into the chamber, which is undoubtedly the best-guarded place in this entire complex. Can we somehow take it out from the observation level?" 

"If we knew where to hit it, but we don't. Compromising that gateway looks like it would help. What would truly help is a few more people on our side. Or a really big bomb." 

I smiled slowly. "Perhaps a collection of really _small_ bombs?" 


	31. Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat

Tobias wasn't thrilled when we returned to his storeroom. Against all odds, he was still parked in there waiting for his binding spell to run out; either no one had looked in the room or whoever had, hadn't noticed him. We hoped that meant everyone would assume the storeroom had already been searched. 

We warded the door and lifted the spell on Tobias so he could move about, and relieve himself if need be. We also warned him to keep quiet and not try to leave. He glared at us but didn't try to argue, just hawked, spat, and went as far away from us as he could. 

That suited us just fine. We cast a small spell around ourselves to muffle the sound of our conversation and turned our attention to constructing Plan B. 

An hour or so later, we were as ready as we could hope to be, though I wished we knew a little more about what was actually going on before we acted. 

"I know." Dorian sighed. "Is it really too much to ask that there be a pair of cultists having an expository conversation about their plans just in front of our door?" 

"Tobias, you know how they work. Can you tell us what they're likely doing now?" I said. 

He hawked and spat. "Why should I?" 

Dorian rolled his eyes and conjured a sphere of ball lightning. "Tobias, are we really going to have to go over that again?" 

He grunted. "Yar, all right then. You made your damn point. Drusus'll have the city watch looking for you outside the compound. They got enough people in here to keep an eye on the exits. All that means they prolly won't be looking too hard in here because they're bound to run across you sooner than later. Place just ent that big." 

"How many people have they managed to merge with spirits?" I asked. 

He shrugged. "Dunno. I haven't kept count. They got the Prefect for sure and mebbe a few more. Some of their own people. I don't know how many in all 'cause some of 'em went nuts. 

"Nuts how?" Dorian asked. 

"You know. Proper mad — screaming and frothing and shitting themselves. Hadda be put down. A few went full-on demon. Damnedest thing you ever saw. Heard 'em bitching about it t'other day." He hawked and spat. I was getting used to it now. 

"Do you remember what they said?" I asked. 

He scowled. "Might be. Don't see why I should tell you." 

"I suppose your inherent sense of altruism and civic duty isn't a consideration," Dorian said. 

Tobias said, "Huh?" 

"What if we pay you?" I said. "He's a Magister. You know he's loaded." 

"Also know Magisters lie," Tobias said, spitting his punctuation. 

"Oh? And yet I happen to have this shiny coin with a charming rendition of an eagle on it," Dorian said, holding up the coin in question. 

Tobias looked closely as he dug in his ear with a finger. He checked to see what he'd gotten then said, "They ain't ever used me for aught but a dogsbody magic-sniffer. I'll swap your coin for useless information, sure." 

Dorian flipped the coin to him; he caught it neatly and it disappeared into his clothing. 

"What were they bitching about?" Dorian repeated. 

"On toppa the ones that went bad, they still've never got one that was any use. They managed to get a few to do what they wanted, but they said the spirits it worked with was either too kindly or plumb useless." 

"Do you know what they meant by that?" I said. 

He shrugged. " _Kindly_ you can figure out easy enough. Like, all's they wanna do is plant flowers and help animals and shite. And _useless_?" He sniggered. "Just take a look at the Prefect these days. He never were a whirlwind of ambition, but now? If it wasn't for sub-Prefect Civilus nothin' would get done here." 

"What sort of spirit did they manage to bind to him?" Dorian’s eyes were bright with curiosity. 

"You want more'n that, you'll have to ask them yourselves." 

"Fair enough. What about the envoys? The last ones from Minrathous that came here?" 

"Ask them. I stay outta the mage shit. Best way to stay alive if you're a mere Soporati." He spat again. 

"Are there likely to be many people in the main chamber if they're not actively possessing someone?" I asked. 

"There's usually a few in there. Not a lot. Can't tell you more'n that." 

I nodded. "Very well. Thank you, Tobias." 

He grunted, then hawked and spat as punctuation. 

I looked at Dorian. "What do you think? Seize the moment?" 

"The longer we sit here the more time we have to realize this scheme is idiotic. We may as well go while enthusiasm outweighs common sense." 

"Agreed. You know what that means, Tobias." 

"By the Maker, can't you just let me go? Dunno who you think I'm gonna alert," he snapped. 

"Sorry, old man. It'll only be another hour," Dorian said. "Now get comfy." 

We put another binding spell on him that would last about half an hour and eased out of the storeroom. 

There was no one in the hallway, so we made our way to the secret door. Tobias had grudgingly told us the trick to opening it, but it took an uncomfortably long time until we were able to trigger it. 

We ascended the narrow stairway and peered into the big chamber. It was only dimly lit now, though the rift was pulsing light to its own rhythm, sending sparks flowing around and through the gateway. I half expected that dull ache that used to happen in my left hand whenever I got close to a rift, but of course that hand was gone. 

We could only see one person working at a writing table from our vantage point. Now that we had time, we took another look at the gateway in the magical spectrum. 

"It seems to be both containing the Fade rift and keeping it open," Dorian said. "Sound familiar?" 

"I take it the Orlesian squad sent their notes home," I said. 

During the days of the Inquisition, we'd run across a group of Venatori in an Orlesian nightclub that had managed to bind an open rift in a similar fashion. Their goal had been radically different, but the spellwork to bind the rift was remarkably similar to what we were looking at now. 

"So if we disable the gate, do we close the rift or explode it?" 

"A question for the ages, were we not about to find out," Dorian said. "Providing we can actually damage the thing. They've shielded it to a fare-thee-well. You're sure you don't remember even the tiniest bit about how you closed rifts?" 

I shook my head. "I just provided the intent. The Anchor did everything else; I never had an inkling how. I don't even know that it required a mage to operate, that's how little I was involved." 

"That's…rather creepy." 

I just said, " _Hah_." 

He turned his attention back to the chamber below. "You realize we may have to enter that room if this doesn't work." 

"I'll be pleased if we don't get ourselves killed." 

As we talked we'd been slowly circling the chamber, looking through the observation slots. 

"Looks like only the one fellow down there. I'd say we'll never get a better chance." 

"You'd best fire the initial bolts; your aim is better," Dorian said. 

I nodded and took position at the observation slot that would best serve my purposes. We were each armed with one of my crossbows. I loaded mine first and fired four pre-spelled bolts where I thought they'd be most effective (the man at the writing table didn't notice a thing). When the fifth struck it would trigger the others. 

I gave Dorian a questioning look and he signalled his readiness, so I fired. 

The fifth bolt hit at the base of the gateway and triggered the magic-negating spell I'd embedded in them. It would only last a minute, so while I was reloading Dorian fired his first bolt. It hit by the gateway and sent out a shockwave accompanied by a wall of fire. 

I fired the same sort of bolt into the magical workroom and watched papers and equipment go flying as they caught fire. The man at the writing desk jumped up with a shout of alarm, looked wildly around for the source of the attack and, as Dorian's next bolt scored a direct hit on the gateway, quite sensibly ran out of the chamber. 

I fired one more into the same point of the gateway Dorian had hit and saw the structure start to buckle; in the magical spectrum the light from the rift started to fluctuate and spark. Then several things happened at once. 

The negation spell ran out and their magical defenses roared back into action. A weird, grating harmonic started emanating from either the gate or the rift. Something in the lab section of the chamber exploded, but we didn't have time to see what. We could already hear faint shouts. 

I cast _don't notice me_ spells as Dorian created doppelgängers of us he sent running back the way we'd entered. We ran for the far exit. 

Down below people burst into the chamber (I could tell by the increased volume of the shouting), while behind us we could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs, then more shouting as they encountered the doppelgängers. 

We reached the far end and dashed up the stairs, Dorian in the lead. I heard a shout behind me and fired a lightning spell blindly at them. They must have fired back, because I felt something hit my coat and bounce off. I twisted far enough around to catch a glimpse of two cultists and fire a freezing spell as Dorian swore and brought his staff up, firing ahead of him. 

Someone gave a panicked shriek. Dorian dodged to one side, cast again and kept going as a body fell heavily just in front of me. 

I managed to skirt it without tripping, but had to twist and slow down to do so. My coat flapped away from my legs (it’s split up the back for riding) and I felt something punch into the back of my right leg like a fist. I stumbled for a moment and kept going. 

Dorian was attempting to get the hidden panel open, swearing softly and comprehensively as it resisted his efforts. I felt something else strike the back of my coat and turned. One of the Venatori mages cast a flashbang, momentarily blinding me. I cast a fireball in return, following that up with a quick barrier spell over both of us while I waited for my vision to clear.

“You might want to hurry it up a bit,” I said. “They can only attack a few at a time, but if they have any brains, they’ll send a few around to wherever this door lets out.”

“I am cognizant of that fact. _Kaffas!_ ”

Electricity crackled across my barrier as Dorian tried a new pattern on the panel. 

The mage pressed himself against the wall as a muscular guard armed with a nasty-looking halberd rushed past. I fired a heavy force spell at him, intending to send him right on his ass, if not hurtling backwards down the hall. He staggered a moment and kept coming, somehow protected from my spell.

He raised the halberd, aiming to cleave my skull in two from the look of its trajectory. I fired a freezing spell at the weapon rather than the man, following it with another force spell that snapped the haft. The top part of the halberd went flying up and behind him. A moment later I heard a yelp of pain.

The fact that he was now holding a stick didn’t slow the warrior. He just flipped his decapitated pole into jousting position and barrelled into me. The pole slammed into my coat as I was casting another barrier on us, and glanced off the hardened leather.

I stumbled backwards from the force of the blow, trying to throw myself to the side so I didn’t hit Dorian. I felt a stab of pain deep in my right thigh but ignored it. The barrier had done what my force spell hadn’t, knocking the warrior off his feet, and its sudden interference had ripped the pole from his hand. I slammed a bolt into my left hand crossbow and fired. The bolt hit him on the right just below the collarbone.

He gave me a condescending sneer, grabbed the bolt with his left hand, and it detonated, removing most of his hand and blowing a hole the size of a grapefruit in his chest. Blood started spurting everywhere as the warrior shrieked, but I barely had time to note that before I felt a crushing spell settle on me. The coat repelled most of it as I cast a counterspell and said, “ _Dorian._ It would be _very_ nice if you could get that fucking thing open.”

“I am _trying,_ amatus,” he said tightly.

I fired my own flashbang down the corridor. In moments that mage would have reinforcements or they’d have a fucking battalion on the other side of the panel. An arrow glanced off my coat and _thunk_ ed into the wall. The warrior was making screechy little wheezing noises as he stubbornly refused to die. The mage cast a fireball at us.

I countered with a pulse of ice that negated the fire, and a strong, branching lighting spell that filled the corridor as it sped away from me.

Dorian took a moment to cast a barrier on us and send his death spirits screaming at the mage, delivering images of whatever would most terrify. 

Moments later a frightened wail echoed and another arrow flew down the corridor, bouncing off the barrier with more force as the archer got closer. I sent a couple more flashbangs at them, following those with a fireball in hopes that the dazzling flashes would cover up the more lethal spell.

I was rewarded with panicked screams as Dorian made a noise of triumph and the panel slid open. The next moment he leapt backwards, slamming into me as he avoided the vicious swipe of a short sword. I reached past him to fire my right hand crossbow blindly. An angry shout told me I’d hit someone.

Dorian cast a heavy freezing spell as I renewed our barriers and pushed past him. There was only one guard in the corridor, but that wasn’t going to last. My bolt hadn’t been one of the spelled ones, so all it had done was punch a nasty hole in her right upper arm. Left-handed, she jabbed at me with her sword. I conjured my own sword and slashed hard at her injured arm, the blade biting in until I heard a crack of bone. She shouted in pain then dropped as Dorian cast a sleep spell on her.

I sunk my fingertips into the pattern on the secret panel and slid it back home as Dorian cast a weak but serviceable healing spell on the guard, saying, “She’s no Venatori.”

I cast a binding on the panel to slow anyone trying to open it. “We’d best get going before anyone else gets here.”

“Agreed,” he said breathlessly. “I’ve had quite enough socializing for the moment.”

I recast the _don't notice me_ as we jogged down the narrow corridors (having to make a few abrupt turns when we heard too many footsteps approaching) and another staircase to the more travelled hallways, where we turned left and made our way to the unused corridor that smelled of cabbage. We hadn't really worked out any plan after the attack and retreat from the chamber, so Dorian started trying doors. 

The first was locked, the second was merely a small room containing cleaning supplies, and the third opened on a stairway that led down. We went down. My right leg was complaining there was something wrong, but there was no time to look into it. 

The stairway let out on another corridor running left to right. There were closed doors across the hall to either side of the stairway. Dorian eased the door to the right open and closed it quickly. "Barracks," he muttered. He tried the other, reporting, "Dining hall. Shall we exit stage left?" 

"Let's," I agreed. We turned down the corridor; when it branched we went right. Dorian tried doors as I resisted the urge to feel the back of my leg in hopes of finding out what was wrong. Finally he found a door that led to a storage area. It was large but looked as if everything in it was covered with a layer of dust— just what we needed. We entered and cast light. 

There were stacks of linens along the left and back walls. The right wall was lined with shelves holding towels and what appeared to be decorative figurines. 

Dorian sat on a stack of what appeared to be bedding, saying, "Well, that was bracing." 

"How are you?" I asked. 

"Singed and dismayingly winded, but unscathed," he said. "One blighter I took out had the audacity to cast a firebolt that nearly tore through my hair. You?" 

"I think I got hit. Back of my right thigh. You want to have a look?" 

"When have I ever passed up an opportunity to look at your backside? Let's see." 

I shrugged out of my coat so he could check. 

" _Venhedis_. You got hit all right. There is a good-sized arrow sticking out of your leg.  However did it get past your coat?”

“Just a case of bad timing. Or good timing if you’re the one firing the arrow. Is it deep?”

“Unfortunately,” Dorian said with frown. 

"In other words, this is going to hurt," I said sourly. 

He probed carefully around the arrow. It was about halfway down the back of my thigh, right in the meaty part. I couldn't imagine how I hadn't felt it before; it felt like a fence post now. 

"I'm afraid so, amatus. I'll cast a healing spell as quickly as possible once we get it out." 

"I don't suppose you noticed whether the tips of their arrows were barbed or smooth?" 

"I didn't even notice one of them was an archer." 

He arranged a couple of blankets on the floor so I could lie down, and took my hunting knife. "I'll have to compromise the integrity of your trouser leg." 

"That's what tailors are for.  Just do it." He cut the material away and probed at the arrow again, making me wince even though his touch was gentle. 

"Should I fetch you something to bite on? That's what they do in all the tales." 

"I'm sure I'll manage without. Just get the cursed thing out, please." 

"Perhaps I should clean around it first," he said. 

I squinted up at him. " _Dorian._ " 

He raked his hands through his hair and didn't even smooth it back down. "I'm sorry, Kai, I…haven't done this sort of thing before. There was always someone else with experience when things got surgical." 

"Are you telling me you're _squeamish_? With your kill count?" 

"Blowing enemies into salad toppings is a very different thing from carving holes in the man you love," he protested. 

"Yes, but you're going to _close_ the hole right away." 

"Kai, you know I'm no healer. I'm good enough to get it to close, but…" 

"I've already got scars, love. This one won't look like anything compared to those." 

"You'll be sore," he warned. 

"I'll be worse if it's not removed," I countered. 

He probed around the arrow again. I bit back a yip of pain, wishing he’d stop probing and just pull the damned thing out. 

"Aren't we supposed to cut the top off?" 

"Only if you were planning on pulling it the rest of the way through my leg, and I'd really rather you didn't," I said drily. 

"Right. Of course." He ran his hand distractedly through his hair again. "What if the healing doesn't fully take?" 

"Dorian, I understand the reluctance, but you would really be doing me a favour. Waiting is making it worse, not to mention what if they find us before you've got the arrow out?" 

"I know." He sighed. "You're right; it's just…all right. I promise not to faint." 

"Please don't." 

He took a deep breath and I felt a stab of pain as he grabbed the arrow. I gasped but managed to keep it to that. 

"Right. On three. I'll make it fast. One…two… _shit!_ " He yanked hard. 

I buried my face in my arm as I gave an involuntary scream — the arrow was barbed. 

Moments later I felt a tingling heat spreading through my leg as Dorian healed the wound. 

I lay there unmoving for a few extra minutes until he knelt next to me, looking concerned and a little bit scared. 

"Amatus? Are you all right?" 

"Yes. Just suddenly feeling very tired. Thank you." I sat up gingerly. He was right — it was sore. 

I cast my own weak healing spell. "How ghastly was it?" 

"It was…ugly." He pulled me into a slightly rough embrace. "Would you _please_ stop doing this to me?" 

"Doing what?" 

"Getting yourself injured and worse. You seem determined to scare the life out of me on a regular basis." 

I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, but didn't let go. "I would be delighted to, if you could convince other people to stop _trying_ to injure me or worse. We should probably get moving before some of those people find us." 

"Agreed. Now kiss me for healing you so quickly — if not perfectly — and I'll help you up." 

I obliged him and accepted his help. The whole ordeal had left me feeling a little shaky. I also could have used a drink of water, but there was no point in saying so since we had none. 

As I took a moment to regain my equilibrium, I scanned the figurines on the shelf in front of me. 

"Dorian. Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?" 

He glanced at the shelf then looked more closely, a disbelieving smile creeping across his face. "You're seeing them." 

Arranged in neat rows were a dozen small statues of a demented-looking black bear holding a fishing pole. 

"How is he in Tevinter?" I asked the air. "I think I'm ready to get out of here." 

After ensuring the corridor was empty, we slunk out of the storeroom and headed back up the stairs. I wasn't limping, but every step I took with my right leg was accompanied by a stab of discomfort deep in the back of my thigh, and a little puff of cool air from the new hole in my trouser leg.  I wondered if I had a new scar, or if Dorian’s healing had been strong enough to avoid that.

Somehow, we needed to find out if we'd succeeded in closing that rift. The chances of the observation corridor still being accessible were somewhere between slim and none, so once again we'd have to improvise. 

"I wish we knew the layout of this place better," I grumbled. Then we had to shut up and hug the wall as a trio of guardsmen clumped down the cross corridor just a dozen paces from us. 

"I have an idea," Dorian said. "Wait here." 

He smoothed his hair, fussed with his moustache and clothes, then strode out into the hallway, flagging down the first servant he spotted. They had an animated conversation, the servant went on his way, and Dorian returned to me looking pleased with himself. 

"I now know precisely where Livia's quarters are. Let's go."

“That’s where we want to go? We don’t want to get out of here?”

“I’d rather solve this, and Livia is, if not _the_ key, at least _a_ key to that. As long as you’re up to it.” He didn’t quite make the last a question, but it was. 

"I’m fine, and I’d like to put a stop to this too. I assume if she's not there we'll wait?" I fell into step beside him. 

"Where better? Besides, she's likely to have snack trays." 

"I'd settle for something to drink. It doesn't even have to be alcoholic," I said. 

Now that we had a few moments to prepare, Dorian layered a nice little illusion spell he'd crafted on top of my _don't notice me_ spell — it didn't construct a specific illusion on us, just suggested to those in our vicinity that we were someone they expected to see walking past them. The two spells used very little power and meshed together nicely. This was the first chance we'd had to test them in conjunction in a real situation. 

We kept our pace casual with just a little extra speed, as if we were on an errand. I tensed internally as we approached another pair of guards accompanied by one of the dinner guests, but they all gave us only cursory glances and continued on their way. To my relief, no one else paid us any attention at all.

Livia's quarters were in the wing opposite the one they'd housed us in. It looked as though her Venatori Rectus had taken over the entire thing. We walked past several, all moving hurriedly in the opposite direction. Once again we were ignored, even as we tried the door to her quarters and found it unlocked. Dorian grinned at me and we walked in, moving quietly without quite sneaking. We determined that the place was empty and she _did_ have snack trays. 

"Shall we?" Dorian said. 

"I just had an arrow pulled out of me and you just had to heal it. That takes a lot out of a person and it's her fault. You're bloody right we shall." I settled onto her divan, poured a glass of water from a crystal pitcher, and ate a couple of bite-sized sandwiches. 

"Judging by the level of activity around here, I suspect we may have been successful. Ye gods, this juice is approximately eighty percent alcohol," Dorian said. 

"Go easy on it; we still have to confront her and defeat all her Venatori." 

That earned me a withering glare. 

I gave him an innocent shrug and went back to demolishing Livia's snack tray. 


	32. Negotiation

I was sitting comfortably in a near-doze when I heard the door to the suite open and slam shut. Dorian gave the same sort of start I just had, so I assumed he'd been similarly soporific. 

**~~**

And he accuses _me_ of indiscriminate alliteration.

**~~**

Livia made an exasperated noise as she thudded into the room, stopping dead when she saw us. 

"Hello darling," Dorian said with a charming smile. "I felt we hadn't had the opportunity for a proper chat, so I thought I'd pop by. I do hope you don't mind that we made ourselves at home; the tiny sandwiches were delicious." 

She started to reach for her staff; I hit her with a small electric bolt to get her attention, saying, "Uh-uh. I wouldn't do that if I were you." 

"He's right," Dorian added. "You're very good, but the two of us are better. Why don't you have a seat so we can talk like civilized people?" 

She sighed and dropped into a nearby armchair. "He's not a bodyguard; he's the one you married, isn't he?" 

"This is Kai, yes." 

I gave her a terse nod, but didn't say anything yet. The first salvo was between them, and Dorian's alone to conduct. 

She looked me up and down. "I'm surprised." 

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "How so?" 

She gave him a cynical smile. "He's not pretty. I always assumed you'd go for a pretty one. This one looks like he might possess a modicum of intelligence." 

He gave her a smile of pure ice in return. "So nice to know some things never change. You always did underestimate me, darling." 

She crossed her right leg over her left, bouncing her right foot; whether it was with nervousness or impatience I wasn't sure. "I suppose you think you've accomplished something, breaking into my suite like this." 

"Are you going to inform me you have people due to arrive any moment now?" 

She glared at him. "What is it you want, Dorian?" 

"To stop you, obviously," he said flatly. "The Venatori were bad enough; what you're doing is appalling. It's like every tale of the evil mages of Tevinter all rolled into one tawdry narrative." 

"And what do you intend to do to stop us?" She tossed her head, flicking hair out of her eyes. 

"Whatever is necessary. Honestly, Livia, using Fade spirits to possess political leaders? 'Restore Tevinter to its former glory'? It sounds like something out of the worst of the adventure circulars. In your pursuit of something better you've become a cliché, and not even an amusing one." 

"I can't tell you how heartbroken I am that you disapprove," she said. 

"I don't just disapprove; I find it offensive and disappointing. Much as we disliked each other, I could always say you used to be creative, Livia. This plan of yours is both ham-handed and immoral." 

"I don't know why I'm sitting here listening to you," she snapped. 

"Because deep down you know it's a stupid idea?" I suggested. 

She glared at me as I continued, "I'm sorry, we haven't met. As Dorian said, I'm Kai." 

"Delighted," she said drily. 

"So Livia, I am curious, especially after dealing with a great number of them — why would you pick the Venatori to align with?" I said. "They were essentially destroyed when Corypheus died and they were never particularly brilliant to begin with." 

She favoured me with a faint smile. "My, my. Three-syllable words. It appears you really _do_ have a brain. It also appears _you_ go for the pretty ones." 

"You'll forgive me if I doubt you have any real interest in what I find attractive. You didn't answer my question. Why align yourself with a failed cult? Were all the good names taken?" I looked at her with bland expectation. 

Livia sighed. "Very well. We continued to use _Venatori_ because it was a name people recognize and gave us ready-made followers. What they wanted wasn't a terrible thing; just to return Tevinter to its rightful place in the world. That was why I joined when I left home." 

"I know you were sheltered, but really? You swallowed their _return the Empire to glory_ rhetoric that easily?" Dorian shook his head disbelievingly. "You listened to their frothing about the Elder One storming the gates of the Black City and thought that was a capital idea?" 

Livia made an impatient noise. " _No._ When I discovered the way they'd chosen to go about it was to align us with an ancient, addled lunatic who claimed to be some sort of magister priest, I thought about leaving. Instead some of us got talking and quietly formed the Venatori Rectus. We were there to fill the vacuum when their god proved to be less than omnipotent. Didn't you two leave _anything_ to eat?" 

"You were going to kill us. Consider the loss of your snack trays to be a down payment for the compensation you owe us," Dorian said. 

"We weren't trying to kill you. Well, you maybe—" She shot me a glance. "—since we didn't know you were a mage, but we were—we _are_ —trying to do something incredible." 

"Which would result in death or damage to myself because you're largely whistling in the dark," Dorian said. "Though it's an obvious play on words, what would _possess_ you to think you could start blithely snatching envoys and now magisters to experiment on?" 

She scowled. "We may have gotten a bit carried away." 

"I don't suppose you'd care to tell us if the rift is still open?" I said. 

"Go check for yourselves." She flipped her hair again. 

"If we must," Dorian said. "Though I must insist you accompany us." 

She shrugged. "I may as well. You've eaten my lunch." 

Dorian took away her staff and we tied her hands behind her back before exiting the suite together with her walking between us. We recast the anonymity spells, so to her followers it appeared Livia was walking with someone familiar as long as they didn't look too closely. 

In minutes we were approaching the main doors of the chamber. There were a handful of bodies strewn in front of it, all clad in Venatori Rectus colours. 

"Fade demons?" I said. 

"Open the door and find out. I'll wait out here," Livia said with another hair toss. 

"We wouldn't dream of excluding you," Dorian said sweetly. "Though perhaps we should ascend to the gallery until we can assess what we might be dealing with." 

We circled to the gallery entrance, where two soldiers were stationed. They stood down at Livia's instruction, but cautioned us there was something roaming the gallery that was big and angry and had burnt one of their compatriots to a crisp. 

"Rage demon unless I'm mistaken, and we know how unlikely that is," Dorian said. 

We told them to stay outside and entered the gallery. 

"Are you going to at least untie my hands?" Livia complained. 

"Don't trust you. Just stay behind us," I said. 

"Oh, you do this all the time, do you?" 

"Actually, yes," Dorian said. "At least it certainly seemed that way for a time." 

We rounded the first corner and saw the rage demon just as it saw us. It came roaring straight at us (they really aren't terribly bright) but never got close enough to do any damage. We traded off freeze and force spells, effectively slowing it and hacking away at its essence until it could no longer pull enough from the Fade to sustain itself. In just a few minutes it gave that dramatic shriek they all do and collapsed in on itself. 

"Now I'm feeling all nostalgic," Dorian said. "Damn. She's gone, isn't she?" 

We turned around. 

"She's gone," I agreed, "Speaking of poor planning. We should’ve put a binding spell on her." 

"She can't have gone far; I'm sure we'll see her again. Shall we see what sort of damage we managed to wreak?" 

We looked through the closest observation window. The remaining lights were sputtering, but it was enough to see the rift was closed, the gateway nothing more than a pile of melted slag. Their workshop/laboratory had been decimated, and the rest of the chamber looked as if it had been hit with a couple of gaatlok bombs. A few shadowy forms were moving erratically around the chamber. 

"Looks like they have a few stray fade demons," I said. "Should we let them deal with them?" 

"They're big boys and girls. I'm sure they can cope. I'm impressed with us; that succeeded beyond my wildest expectations," Dorian said cheerfully. 

"Too bad we didn't get to see it. We do still have Livia and her remaining friends to contend with." 

"How tiresome." 

We walked to the exit; the soldiers had disappeared along with Livia. 

"I will give her credit, though," he continued, "At least she got her Venatori wearing something other than black hooded outerwear. The blue and red adds a _frisson_ of drama to their look." 

"Not to mention I can't help but feel the black is gimmick infringement," I added. "I was doing all black before the Venatori even existed. Do we wait for them or look for them now?" 

"I don't think we need to worry about that, amatus," he pointed with his staff. Livia and the older mage were marching toward us flanked by half a dozen more mages, some of them looking distinctly battered and singed. "Rather unsporting numbers, don't you think?" 

"It wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't low on bolts. I need to find out Sera's secret. I take it Livia's on our level of ability?" 

"Oh, yes. Why do you think they were so eager to breed us,” he said with a curl of his lip. “I'd assume her friend is similarly powerful." 

So there were a minimum two mages at our level of power, and maker only knew what kind of threat the rest of their entourage posed. “What are her specialties?”

“She likes the arcane. Mind blasts, crushing spells, that sort of thing.”

“Think she’d be willing to negotiate?”

“I haven’t the slightest. I never knew her, I was just betrothed to her.”

"Let's just hope the natives don't decide to get involved. We can probably take this lot, but any more would be ridiculous. I think we should really push for a deal of some sort, though."

Dorian gave me a half smile. “I’m all for that. Let’s just hope you can exercise those legendary persuasion skills successfully.”

I raised an eyebrow. “All up to me, is it?”

“I’ll back you every step of the way, amatus, but this _is_ your specialty. Don’t worry – I have complete faith in you.”

I snorted. “Thanks.” 

They stopped several paces away from us. They were all scowling as hard as they could. Most of them had adopted a spread-legged stance with arms crossed over their chests. A few had adventurously changed it up by standing with their staffs planted prominently in front of them, assuming, no doubt, that we'd quake in fear at this overt display of coiled power. 

"Are you at least going to introduce us all, Livia?" Dorian said. "It's a shame, the way people abandon manners at the smallest provocation these days." 

She shook her head slowly. "Dorian, you are unbelievable." 

"No, my dear Livia, I am _civilized._ You'll note that the root word in that is _civil._ Would it truly pain you that much to play at a modicum of civility before you smite us?" 

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. 

She glanced at the man beside her, who seemed to be at a loss, and made a noise like _tch._ "Fine. Dorian, — um, I forget your name —" 

"Kai," I said. 

"Kai what? If we're going to be civil, we may as well do it correctly." 

"Kai Trevelyan." 

"Right. Well then. Dorian Pavus, Kai Trevelyan, this is Livius Senna, co-founder of the Venatori Rectus." 

The older man inclined his head marginally. 

"Livia and Livius, how positively charming," Dorian said. "If you married, you could use each other's monogrammed linens." 

"You're very witty, Magister. You would have made a fine addition to our organization," Senna said. 

Dorian made a moue. "Oh dear, is this the part where you say _but now you must die_? Or do you prefer a touch of villainous exposition first?" 

"Must you make everything into a joke?" Livia demanded. 

"Yes, I'm afraid I must," Dorian said mournfully. 

"So you're a mage. I suppose congratulations are in order. We didn't realize," Livius said to me. 

"You weren't meant to," I replied. 

"I suppose that explains how you escaped the dungeon." 

I shrugged. "Assume whatever you like. Now that you've got your little squad assembled here, what are you planning on doing?" 

"Taking you back into custody." 

"But your Templar's dead. How were you planning on shutting both of us down?" Dorian said in a tea-party voice. 

"We have ways," Livius said snappishly. 

I was beginning to wonder if everyone named Livius was an asshat. 

"You know, you could just stop this nonsense and turn yourself into the authorities," I said. "It lacks drama, but considering you've made significant strides in the field of perfect possession, they're as likely to put you to work perfecting it as punish you." 

"They might even give you a commemorative ribbon," Dorian added. 

"We've already closed your rift and broken your gateway, so it's not like you have anything to preserve here." 

"You can't be serious," Livia said. 

"Why not?" I asked. "What, you think just because you have a cult everything has to end in a battle to the death?" 

Dorian smoothed his moustache. "It really is a terrible cliché. The original Venatori tried it countless times. It was usually them that ended up dying." 

"They could execute us just as easily," Senna objected. 

"Are we talking about the same Magisterium?" Dorian said. 

"If you don't, we're going to have to have some bloody great fight and some if not all of you will end up injured or dead by the end of it," I pressed. 

"There are eight of us. There are two of you," Senna sneered. 

"Your point being?" Dorian said.

“Is this where you tell us you’ve taken down enemies so powerful we can’t imagine?” Senna said with a snort. 

"If you can’t imagine it, there’s no point telling you. I _will_ tell you, strategically, it's best to remove the leaders as quickly as possible in a combat situation," I said. "If your followers see your head explode, it tends to cool their ardour somewhat." 

"I apologize for my partner's bluntness — he's southern," Dorian said. "But his observation is valid." 

"You honestly think we'll just _surrender_ to you?" Livia said. 

"It's the best outcome you can get," I said, "You know we're telling the truth about their likely reaction to your research. Just give up the _restoring Tevinter to glory_ shite; that part of your plan would never have worked as it was described to us." 

"Not to mention every recent attempt that's been made to restore swaths of Thedas to past states of being has ended badly for the ones attempting to implement them," Dorian said. 

"And frankly, every one of them was more powerful than all of you put together," I added. "Look up Corypheus and Fen'Harel if you don't believe me." 

"To surrender is to admit weakness," Senna intoned. 

"Or a great deal of common sense. The original Venatori didn't surrender, and look what happened to them," Dorian said. 

Livia and Livius looked at each other and had a brief, hissed conversation. Livius said, "One moment," and the two of them walked out of earshot. Their followers stood uncertainly where they were, watching their leaders have another conversation that involved a great deal of gesticulating. 

"Think they'll go for it?" I said quietly. 

"They'd be mad not to. In other words, I have no idea," Dorian said. 

"There could be an argument made for wiping out every last one of them and their research rather than handing the key to perfect possession over to the Tevinter government, or any other government for that matter," I mused. 

Livia said something about _laboratory_. 

Senna responded with a series of strangled whispers. 

"You worried that could come back to bite us in the arse later? Because it certainly could," Dorian said. He had a look of cool amusement. "However, I'd argue the idea is already out there and the chances that the Venatori Rectus are the only ones pursuing it are remote. At least we know how far along this group is." 

"Better the devil you know? I just hope we're not making a huge mistake," I said. 

"We probably are, but with the best of intentions," Dorian said with a crooked smile. "Here they come, and they're not pointing any weapons at us." 

They stopped the same several paces from us and Livius said, "What guarantees do we have that we'll be treated fairly and not betrayed and executed the moment they get an opportunity?" 

"You'd have the guarantee of a Magister directly appointed by the Archon to address this situation," I said. "We would, of course, negotiate terms of your surrender and have that in writing as well. Be clear, though, we make no claims concerning what the Archon and the Magisterium will ultimately decide, we only posited likely outcomes. Once you reach Minrathous, that's between you and them." 

"Understood." Livia drew a deep breath and continued, "We agree to negotiate a surrender."

One of their robed followers shouted, “No!”

Both Livia and Livius turned as the shouter — a youngish man with long brown hair and a scraggly bit of beard — surged toward them. He was one of the staff-brandishers.

“Grand Overlords, you can’t do that!” he protested.

Dorian and I looked at each other. _Grand Overlords_ , he mouthed. I bit back a snort of laughter.

“What about our goals? What about your vision for Tevinter?” the cultist was pleading. 

“The vision is intact,” Livia said sternly. “We’re merely changing the vehicle for implementing it.”

“You mean you’re rolling over for Minrathous!” another cultist accused.

“We have reached a point in our research where it makes more sense to continue our work from within. We shall allow them to fund their own downfall,” Livius said with smooth confidence.

_In other words, funding another lab like the one we’d just destroyed was a costly prospect._

“You never cared about the dream! You just care about your research!” The first fellow brandished his staff, but before he could cast, Livia hit him with a crushing prison spell that stopped him in his tracks.

He dropped to the ground, spasming as he tried to breathe, the spell binding around him so tightly that his lungs couldn’t expand. She continued casting until he no longer moved. I wasn’t sure if he was dead or merely unconscious.

“Anyone else object?” she asked. “No? Then you won’t mind if we return to our conversation.”

She turned back to us. “As we said, we’re ready to negotiate.” 

"Lovely!" Dorian said, "Shall we say tomorrow mid-morning? We should give the kitchen time to construct suitable hors d'oeuvre trays." 

"Maker forbid we move before that's accomplished," Livius said drily. "Very well." 

"That will also give you time to take care of those leftover fade demons in there," I said, gesturing towards the closed door to the big chamber. 

"Yes, you'd best get on that," Dorian said cheerfully, "They get increasingly testy the longer you leave them. And no negotiations until you prove you can clean up that particular mess. Shall we, amatus?" 

We walked away, leaving them arguing who was going to go in and take care of the demons. I felt no guilt whatsoever at not offering to help. 


	33. Reservations / Negotiation 2

We made arrangements for negotiating the next day, sent communications to the Prefect and Celestina Civilus concerning the negotiation and the need to meet with them afterwards, sent a runner to the garrison with an update, sent a meal request to the kitchen, then retreated to our suite and locked the door, opening it just long enough to allow the servants delivering the meal in and out. No one else had been following protocol this trip, so we saw no reason we shouldn't spend the night socializing with each other exclusively. In a very short time I'd grown heartily sick of everyone in Castra Nicia. 

Once we'd eaten, we retreated to our private room. I pulled off my boots and slouched into the couch as Dorian got wine for himself and a beer for me. 

"So _are_ we doing the right thing?" I asked. 

He handed me my beer and sat next to me, removing his own boots. "Having second thoughts?" 

I snorted. "Had those ages ago. I think I'm on fifth thoughts at least. You?" 

"Ugh." He slid back on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. "I'm having serious reservations. We did destroy enough of their notes and the like to set them back but…what if they manage it? What if we hand Radonis or even worse elements the secret to perfect possession?" He took a large swallow of wine. "I repeat — ugh." 

"I thought you said others were working on perfect possession already." 

"They are, but only this group has managed to do it, even if the results have been messy and ineffectual thus far." 

I drank some beer as I reached over to run my hand through his hair (my right hand, that is; the left one got beer bottle duty). "You know, there's no guarantee they'll ever be able to go beyond benign or ineffectual possessions. Again, the only perfect possessions anyone's aware of have all been of that ilk." 

He made a thoughtful noise. "You don't think some of the monsters throughout history might be perfect possessions of the other sort?" 

I considered that seriously for a moment. "No. I don't. We're far too capable of incredible atrocities on our own. That may be why what they want'll never work." 

Dorian tuned his head to look me in the eyes, curiosity written across his features. "How do you figure?" 

"I've met some truly evil people. They didn't need the help of any fade demon. I think given that capacity we all have for evil already, when you add a negative entity to it, you just get the kind of possessions we see. Its monstrousness added to our own tips the scale too far and we inevitably turn into the physical manifestation of the monster, because we can't properly contain it. Not because we have more evil than good in us, but because a pride or rage demon isn't going to take the time to try and assimilate or mesh with the person. It's not in their nature. They want instant results, and they want power. So they inevitably tip the scales too quickly and _boom!_ Abomination." 

"But suppose they could get one of the negative entities to take the time?" Dorian countered. 

I smiled. "Then my whole theory goes out the window and we've a heap of potential trouble. But I think the negative ones they want are all too simple to even explain the concept to." 

"What if they could convince a desire demon? They're intelligent enough to see the benefits of taking time to mesh with their host." 

"True, but a desire demon's also intelligent enough to know these wankers are playing it. They need something powerful but dumb enough to do what they want." 

"You hope. Perhaps we shouldn't negotiate." 

"Yeah, but what's the alternative? If we just turn them over for punishment, the outcome's the same except we're _completely_ out of the loop." 

Dorian sat up to pour more wine. "I suppose the real alternative would be to eliminate them all." 

I raised an eyebrow. "You could do that? Just slaughter the lot of them? I mean, I'm okay with doing whatever it takes if someone's trying to kill me back, but I mostly draw the line at executions unless it's something so monstrous it'd be a crime _not_ to kill them." 

"What they're doing in _theory_ could be that monstrous," he said. 

I raised my beer in a salute. "It's your call, Magister." 

"Oh yes, _now_ you defer to me." He glared, but I could see the amusement underneath. He smoothed his hair where I'd mussed it and said, "I hope for all our sakes your theory's correct." 

_=#=_

The negotiation was an interesting affair. It had the expected civil veneer with layers underneath (this was Tevinter, after all; I don't think they know _how_ to do anything in a purely straightforward manner), but Dorian and Livia's history gave it an extra dimension, as did the magical research and sloppy implementation they'd been up to. 

We entered the same round chamber we had the day before (it felt like it should have been longer ago). This time there were refreshments set up on a sideboard and just a couple of armed guards. I poured myself coffee before taking my seat next to Dorian. I'd left most of my _badass mercenary_ trappings back in our suite in favour of something a little more stylish, though still black of course. 

Celestina was already seated; apparently she was representing Castra Nicia. The Venatori Rectus entered moments later in the persons of Livia, Livius Senna, Aemilia and a man and woman I still thought of as _dinner guests_ who were reintroduced as Aulus Strabo and Suedia Dracus. They got their own refreshments and arranged themselves around the table. 

Livius gave me a hard look and said, "We know who you are now." 

I took a decorous sip of coffee before saying, "Yes? I don't believe we ever made a secret of it." 

"You pretended you weren't a mage." 

"Neither one of us ever said a thing about it, Livius. I just don't care to dress in traditionally magey clothing and I rarely carry a staff these days; you can ask anyone." 

"There's no need to be hostile," Dorian said. "This is supposed to be a friendly negotiation. I suggest you try to get into the spirit of things." 

"You also didn't mention that you were the Inquisitor," he snarked. 

I shrugged. "It's not important. That was years ago in another country. I fail to see how it pertains in the least to what's going on right now." 

Aemilia laughed. "Give it up, Livius. He's quite correct that it's not important. They were rather naughty, withholding information, but so were we. Do you tell everyone _your_ resume the moment you meet them?" 

He grunted. "Well. It's smacks of subterfuge and dishonesty, that's all I'm saying." 

"You might want to quit while you're ahead, Livius. I don't recall that we forcibly confined _you_ in a dungeon with the intent of subjecting you to magical experiments. We haven't forgotten that, funnily enough," I said. 

Livius shut up. 

"If everyone's ready, perhaps we should begin," Dorian took over. "Is someone taking notes? Good. We have many points to cover, so we may as well get the biggest out of the way first. Since Livius already brought it to everyone's attention, there is the matter of kidnapping several appointed envoys of the Archon. We know very well what you intended for Comte Trevelyan and myself — and we _will_ revisit that — but we still do not know the whereabouts of the previous envoys. This negotiation shall remain dead in the water until we do. Livia? Would you or one of your colleagues care to address that?" 

She didn't quite hide her sigh. "They're…dead." 

"Oh? And how did that unfortunate outcome occur?" 

"I…may have exaggerated the level of success our process has had. We _have_ been able to achieve perfect possession with a handful of subjects, but so far the only ones that have taken have — much like the naturally occurring cases — been possessions by benign or ineffective spirits." 

"Like what?" I asked, as though we weren't aware of that. 

"The Prefect," Celestina cut in. 

"Yes," Livia said, giving the woman a narrow look. "The Prefect is a good example. As nearly as we can tell, he was successfully bonded with a spirit of compliance." 

"I didn't know there was such a thing," Dorian said. 

"Neither did we. It took some time to determine its true nature, because whatever anyone said, he'd _agree_ with," Aemilia said. 

"Servius is still _there_ ," Celestina said, "but after what these lunatics have done, he'll agree to anything that's put before him. Like writing ultimatums to the Archon." She gave the Venatori a withering glare. 

"This is fascinating, but it's distracting everyone from the primary topic — what about the envoys?" I said. 

"We had hopes that a more powerful mage might be able to attract and bond with a more powerful spirit. We didn't _just_ try it with the envoys; some of our own people volunteered as well," Livia said. 

"The envoys didn't volunteer," Dorian said flatly. "Any more than we did." 

"Yes. Well." She at least looked slightly embarrassed. "Unfortunately, every time we've managed to get a true bond with a more powerful or volatile spirit, one of two things happens. Either they go mad within a few days or they die.” 

"Some of then turn into monsters first," Celestina snapped. 

Livia ignored her. "It seems to be a tremendous strain on the body, which is baffling, because in the naturally occurring cases of perfect possession that doesn't seem to happen." 

"Perhaps because you're using a very complex spell to _force_ an equally complex condition on both the spirit and the person? It is possible it's not a healthy situation," I said. 

"And certainly far from perfect. What about when you don't achieve a true bond?" Dorian asked. 

"It can be…ugly," said one of the dinner guests. "Some of them morphed into demons, as usually happens, but some only changed partway. It was apparently…excruciating for both the host and the spirit." 

"Those that didn't die, we had to put down out of mercy," Livia said. 

"How charitable of you," I couldn't resist saying. 

"I do hope you know we're not going to concede any mitigating factors to you when it comes to this subject," Dorian said. "Particularly considering if you'd had your way, we'd be two more casualties on your list. To say that's made us cross would be an understatement of the greatest magnitude." 

"I know," Livia said, "but as you say, the Magisterium has been known to allow a level of transgression in magical research. Hopefully they will see the importance of our work and offer us better resources than we've been able to gather on our own." 

We went back and forth on the murder and kidnapping issues for quite some time, but eventually managed to get something hammered out that guaranteed they'd have to compensate the people they'd damaged and the families of the ones they'd destroyed. In return we guaranteed they wouldn't be killed before they presented their research to the Archon or his chosen representatives. 

As Dorian and I had discussed, in some ways negotiating with them at all was a mistake. Considering what they'd done, they should have been executed, but that wasn't what we'd been sent to do. 

If the Archon ordered it, it wouldn't break my heart, but…this may sound odd: I can kill people in battle without losing much sleep over it, and there are cases where a person's done or become something so unspeakable I have no problem executing them, but I can't and won't send people to their deaths for expedience. In my entire tenure as Inquisitor, I never executed one person, preferring to co-opt them if at all possible, or neutralize them if it wasn't. Some — even my closest friends and advisors — got annoyed with me about that on occasion. 

We moved onto other subjects and managed to get most of what we wanted. They agreed to disband their cult and stop their so-called research for the time being (though both Dorian and I knew they'd likely be allowed to pick up where they left off once Minrathous heard what they'd been up to). 

Some of their followers may have been True Believers, still devoted to the idea of making Tevinter glorious again, but for cultists, the group at the table were a pragmatic lot. I got the sense they’d become more interested in furthering their personal pursuits, which split neatly into the _perfect possession research_ and _power and money_ factions,  than whatever ideals they once purported to espouse. It made the process much easier; true fanatics don't want to negotiate.

I think Dorian was obscurely pleased they'd only kept the Venatori name because it was recognizable to potential members. 

Before we could move into finalizing everything, there was one small chore we — or rather, Dorian — still needed to do. We excused ourselves for a few minutes, went to a private room and Dorian activated the sending crystal. Almost immediately Alectius answered with, "I take it you've solved the problem, Magister Pavus?" 

"Handily and with élan, of course, but we've done all we can here, Alectius. You need to tell us how you wish to expedite. We have half a dozen former cultists who've gotten up to some rather dodgy magical experimentation here in fair Castra Nicia. Among other things, they managed to kill the previous envoys. But the good news is, they've agreed to allow us to hand them over to the Archon for judgment. That means they are technically _your_ problem. How would you like them delivered?" 

"Half a dozen, you say? You mean the Prefect couldn't defend Castra Nicia against half a dozen people?" 

"Oh, if you add in their underlings, there were significantly more than that. Plus they were sneaky. You know how Venatori can be."  
  
That got his attention. "Venatori?" he said sharply. 

"An offshoot of them, really, just using the name for quick recognition. You haven't answered my question and we cannot close negotiations until you do," Dorian chided him. 

Alectius sniffed. "Set a few of our soldiers to guard them and bring them on the boat, obviously. It sounds like you've gotten chummy enough with them that you can crowd together until you reach Minrathous. Let me know when you'll arrive, and I'll have people there to deal with them." 

"That's it? You don't want to know what they've done?" I asked. 

"Ah, Trevelyan. Should have known you'd be right there. No, I do not want to know as yet. I assume it will all be in your comprehensive and detailed report." 

"I don't recall you saying we were expected to write reports," I said. 

"Hm. Yes. I suppose I may have forgotten to mention that. If you object, we'll have to arrange for you to remain in Minrathous for a time so we can debrief you. So very sorry it slipped my mind." 

"Your sympathy is truly touching," I replied. 

"We'll do our best to provide your report, Alectius, but with our surroundings being so primitive and chaotic, you may have to make do with something more slapdash than you're partial to. A consummate professional such as yourself should be able to fill in any gaps we may have to leave with some gentle questioning of the prisoners and a few brief conversations like this one," Dorian said. "We'll contact you when we know our arrival time." 

"See that you do, Magister Pavus." He severed the connection. 


	34. Sailing Home

I won't give an exhaustive description of the logistics involved in organizing everything; I was part of it and it bored me. I admit I left a great deal of the arrangements to Dorian, volunteering to write Alectius's report instead. However, I will cover the loose ends: 

We left Servius Maltho as titular Prefect of Castra Nicia with the understanding that Celestina Civilus would be the woman truly running the prefecture. Even the Venatori contingent seemed to feel a little sorry for him — despite understanding the problem, Maltho literally couldn't help agreeing with anything anyone put to him. 

Dorian and I oversaw the clean-up and dismantling of the cult's ruined lab/rift gateway. Despite the damage, there were still reams of notes and diagrams and some equipment that survived. We confiscated it all. We'd hand the documents (or at least most of them) over to the Archon's people…after reading through them ourselves. 

We asked after the man we'd seen possessed. Like most of their subjects, he'd died after a quick and ugly mental decay. 

Aside from the core group of leaders who were getting a free trip to Minrathous, the rest of the Venatori Rectus were told that their organization was no more and they were to disperse. Most left without much resistance aside from a great deal of complaining about their leaders deceiving and betraying them. A few die-hard fanatics tried to get violent, but Celestina put them down fast and mercilessly. That convinced the stragglers to leave. Soon Castra Nicia was once again the dull, oddly old-timey paradise it had always been, though I suspected under Celestina some changes were going to be made. 

Once the situation in Castra Nicia was under control, we took Maltho’s freshly-penned report and rode down to the garrison to await the arrival of our ship. Commander Marcellus met us accompanied by Sivra, the elven woman whose freedom we'd bought. To be honest, both of us had nearly forgotten about her in all the excitement. She'd traded her slave's clothing for rogue's leathers and while she was rather reserved, the meekness we'd seen had all but evaporated. That alone made me feel it was worth it. 

Given we'd made no plans with or for her, we agreed with her assumption that she'd be accompanying us back to Qarinus. I had a feeling Captain Ludziik wasn't going to be entirely pleased with the crowd we were expecting him to transport. 

=#= 

The voyage back to Qarinus was mostly unremarkable. It was cramped until we reached Minrathous, where the former Venatori and their four guards disembarked. Alectius sent their own guards to take over as well as a courier to collect our report (which I'd luckily finished). We briefly toyed with the idea of staying in Minrathous for a few days, but decided against it. Not only did we want to stop travelling, but we had Sivra to think about and a nug at home who was probably feeling very hard done by. 

The first night after Minrathous we actually ran afoul of a summer squall. Even with Mikal's elixir, Dorian spent most of it parked on the bed in our cabin, looking slightly bilious, though he didn't get sick. I told him he should be delighted that he could now speak with authority on squalls since he was clearly fond of the word. I won't repeat the word he called me as he rolled up in the blanket and announced he was going to try to sleep through this nightmare. 

I considered it quite heroic of me to refrain from pointing out the inherent flaw with that thought. 

I wandered down to the galley and found Sivra seated by herself at one end of the main table, drinking a cup of tea with both hands wrapped around it to absorb its warmth. I got myself a coffee and sat down across from her, asking, "Do you mind?" 

She shook her head no and gave me a small smile as I asked her how she was doing. 

"This is all very strange. I love it," she said. "I keep feeling like I'm going to wake up back in that room in Castra Nicia. I should thank you again." 

"No, you shouldn't." 

"Your — um — friend? Partner?" 

"Amatus," I supplied. She'd been in Tevinter long enough to know what that meant. 

"Oh?" She blinked and straightened abruptly as if someone had goosed her. "Oh! Then you — he — you really _did_ free me." 

"Excuse me? What did you think we were doing? Putting on an elaborate ruse just to watch your disappointment when we told you it was a lie?" 

"Noooooo, I—" She flushed. "I thought you'd actually bought me to, you know, _have_ me. Both of you. Probably until you got bored of me. I thought I should make the most of pretending to be free while I could." 

"Whyever would you jump to that conclusion when you _saw_ us sign your papers?" 

She looked at the table. "I…can't read very well. And it takes me a long time when I try. So I saw papers but…you learn not to get your hopes up. And, I mean, regular men can be bad enough with the things they want. Not _all_ of them, actually most of the ones that came to the suite were decent, but there were a few…" She shuddered. "And you hear stories about magisters…" 

"Maker's breath, Sivra, even if I was attracted to women I'd never do that, and neither would Dorian. We're also not going to use you for blood magic or whatever other ghastly things the stories say. You're free — that's all. We don't expect anything from you." 

She smiled a tight-lipped little smile. "How grand. Now I've insulted you and made myself look like an ungrateful idiot. I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. I'm sure if I'd been through what you have, I wouldn't be too trusting of people either," I assured her. "How about we just go back to what you were saying." 

"If I can remember." She sipped at her tea, brows lowered in concentration. "Oh, that was it — your amatus, he said you're from the south. You're not Fereldan, are you?" 

"Sorry, Ostwick. I've been to Ferelden, though, and have friends from there. I seem to have a positive knack for meeting elves from Denerim." 

She blinked. "You remember that?" 

"It wasn't _that_ long ago you said it." 

"Usually people who used that suite would be hard pressed to remember my name, let alone details like that. Slaves are basically mobile furniture to most Vints. Um. Oh, damn. Sorry, I know your amatus is a V- is a Tevinter," she stammered. 

"Don't worry about it; we've both been called worse. Has everyone been treating you well? Are your quarters all right?" 

"Everyone's been very nice. Did you know there are elves on the crew and they're treated just like everyone else?" 

"Why shouldn't they be? They're just as skilled as everyone else." 

"Well, to me that's a very new thing. And my quarters are a hammock in the crew's quarters, but it's a very nice hammock, I think. May I ask you something?" 

I nodded _go ahead_. 

"What did you mean about elves from Denerim?" 

"Just that I have two good friends who are both elves from Denerim. I met them at completely different times and completely different places, and now you're the third. I know there are other people from Denerim, but I only seem to meet elves." 

She stared at me. "You have _friends_ that are elves?" 

"Of course. We both do. Also dwarves and a couple of Qunari; Tal-Vashoth, that is. I draw the line at loyal members of the Qun." 

She shook her head slowly. "Either the world has changed a great deal since I became a slave or you and your amatus are very unusual humans." 

"Probably a bit of both," I said with a sideways smile. 

"Is he really a magister?" 

"He really is. Have you decided what you want to do yet?" 

She sipped at her tea and made a face. "Venhedis. It's gone cold." 

"May I?" She looked at me suspiciously but handed the cup over. I goosed it with a small heat spell and handed it back. 

She took a sip and gave me an ironic smile. "Of course you're a mage too. Thank you. I suppose I should be happy that two of the scariest people in Tevinter gave me my freedom; who's going to overrule you?" 

"You never answered my question." 

"That's because I don't know," she said with a sigh. "I know nothing about this land or any other, really. I went from an alienage to slavery. If I'm not very lucky or very smart I may very well end up back in one or the other. I know that. That's the other reason this all seems like a very nice dream. Chances are it's all going to come crashing down as soon as I try to go into the world." 

"We can help you," I began. 

"You can't be there all the time. You don't understand. You're the right race. You're powerful. You have money. From the way you talk, you're very educated. Nobody would _think_ to treat you without respect." 

"There's a lot of hate for mages down south, you know," I said. Stupidly, in retrospect. 

"Yes, but part of the reason people hate you is they're scared of you. _No one's_ scared of an elf girl. 'Sides, if you were really worried about that, it isn't hard to hide that you're a mage. I didn't know if you were one when you walked into the suite." She gave me a challenging look. 

I snort-laughed. "All right, you win. I don't know shite about what you're facing. I'd still like to help, though. My friends don't live in alienages and they're not slaves. There's no reason you can't have that life too." 

She cocked her head to one side. "This isn't fair. You're making me believe that could be true." 

I finished the last of my coffee. "Good. Because it can be. I'd best go see how Dorian's doing. We'll talk more." 

"Um." 

I paused halfway through standing up. "Yes?" 

"I just. Maker's breath, what do I call you? Lord? Magister? Dominus?" 

"You call me Kai. That's my name. You call him Dorian." 

She wrinkled her nose at me. "But is that right? I mean, he's a _Magister_ and…" 

"And his name is Dorian. If you're serious about getting yourself a proper life, the first step is to stop thinking of yourself as inferior. And yes, I know everyone's always told you that you are, but it's not so. So we'll just call each other by name if you don't mind. It's much easier than trying to remember what title goes with who." 

"If you say so," she said. "But it's going to take some getting used to. You'd best go see how Dorian's doing." 

"Sound advice." 

I left her smiling bemusedly.

=#= 

The weather cleared the next day and stayed that way, so we made good time back to Qarinus and Dorian was able to enjoy himself with the help of Mikal's tonic. 

We spent a great deal of those few days chatting with Renna (the ship's weather mage, if you remember). Not only had she been over most of Tevinter and had the stories — and a few scars — to back it up, but it was a chance to learn about an aspect of magic we weren’t at all versed in. Neither of us had any ability whatever in weather magic. Most mages don’t. To make it clear: calling down lightning is not weather magic, it’s elemental. Weather magic is vast and complicated and involves thinking not only ahead, but laterally, as — for instance — making it rain in one area can have serious consequences in an area far away. It was fascinating, but some of the forces she had to juggle were tricky enough that even her simplified explanations were headache-inducing. 

We talked to Sivra now and then, trying to get acquainted with her, but she seemed more comfortable with the crew. We didn’t push it. We spent as much time on deck as possible, and made the best of the rather cramped cabin. It was a nice break after everything at Castra Nicia. 

We docked in the late afternoon. After that run of clear weather, it had decided to rain for our homecoming. It was chilly and unpleasant enough that we'd put on coats. As rain pounded relentlessly, we said our goodbyes to the captain and crew (making a show of complaining to Renna about her lapse in allowing the weather to turn so completely) and oversaw the unloading of our gear. 

While Dorian arranged a coach to take us home and Sivra guarded our things, I wandered around the waterfront, enjoying the feel of solid land after days at sea. 

As always, the docks were bustling with activity. We were once again moored at the end of the harbour that housed mostly private craft and saw more wealthy denizens of Qarinus than the main harbour. In response to that, people had set up all manner of stalls and kiosks around the perimeter selling an eclectic array of goods. 

There were stalls with clothing, food, supposedly exotic spices, tacky souvenirs and charms, maps, books, and bags to carry all your purchases in. A lutist with a surprising amount of talent was playing under a hastily constructed awning, her hat in front of her. I threw a silver in it. 

There was a stall selling potions and tinctures I wouldn't have gone near for anything, another selling cheap daggers, and a third selling light globes that changed colour depending on the time of day. Between some of the stalls and around the very edges, other people had laid out blankets with random assortments of goods on them, today protected by more makeshift awnings and the occasional umbrella. These weren't professionals like the stall owners. They were just people who had a few things they wanted or needed to sell. 

I really hadn't planned on acquiring anything, but sometimes you see something you just can't walk away from. This was one of those times, and my internal debate lasted all of a minute, if that. I secreted my purchase in my coat until the right time came to produce it. 

I returned in time to help oversee our things being loaded onto the carriage and climb in. There was a moment of confusion as the driver tried to insist Sivra ride next to him while we insisted she belonged in the back with us. The driver finally relented, though not without vocalizing his theory that she must be a pretty special servant, and we settled in for the trip home. 

Sivra was looking out the window with interest while Dorian looked ready to fall asleep. I had things distracting me that were keeping me wide awake. 

We'd been on the road for perhaps ten minutes. I flinched and bit down on a yelp of surprise as Dorian eyed me suspiciously. "Kai? May I ask why your coat is moving?" 

"Don't know what you're talking about." 

"Amatus." He raised an eyebrow at me. 

"Oh, all right. I'm feeling like a pincushion anyway." 

I pulled my purchase out of my coat. "A personable street urchin was selling the litter for a copper apiece. _Urchins_ , Dorian. And look at him." 

I held the squirming kitten up. It was black with amber eyes and it _meep_ ed at him. 

Sivra said, "Oh, cute!" as Dorian tried to give me a stern look. 

"Kai." 

"Say hello to him. How can you not want to say hello to him?" 

I thrust the kitten at him. He extended one finger for it to investigate. The kitten sniffed then grasped his finger in its front paws and _meeped_ again. He ruffled its fur and scratched behind its ears and I knew I had him. 

"He _is_ adorable, I'll give you that." He smiled at the kitten. "And you managed to find one that matches your wardrobe. What's his name?" 

"That's up to you," I said. 

"Me?" 

"It's only fair. I named Swivet." 

"Yes, but we weren't living together then." 

"Doesn't matter. Besides, your mother took your cat away. You need to name this one. Here, take him. Just watch the claws; at that age they're terrifyingly sharp." 

I handed him the kitten. "If you don't give him a name he's going to be stuck with 'the kitten' for the rest of his life." 

The kitten had discovered one of the laces on Dorian's shirt cuff and was batting at it enthusiastically. "I should be very cross with you, you know. Making unilateral decisions like that." 

I smiled complacently. "Dorian, I love you with all my heart, but if I were to wait for you to make decisions having to do with our personal life, Swivet and I would still be living in Hasmal. We needed the kitten. We needed _this_ kitten. He told me so." 

He snort-laughed. "Oh, don't worry, I agree. We clearly needed this kitten. What am I going to call you?" he asked the kitten. It seemed content to let him decide. 

The rest of the ride to the estate was utterly kitten-centric and seemed to take no time at all. I insisted Dorian carry him when we left the coach; I didn't want Swivet thinking his place had been usurped, and Lucien despaired of me enough already. 

As we exited the coach, Sivra looked around wide-eyed. "This is your _house_?" 

"Yes, it is," Dorian said. "Ouch! You owe me for a very expensive shirt, you vicious beast," he admonished the kitten. It _meeped_ and tried to squirm its way up to his shoulder. 

"How far does it go?" she asked. 

"Everything you can see pretty much belongs to Dorian," I said, "With the possible exception of the sky and we're not sure about that." 

She went pale. "I can't go in there." 

"Why not?" Dorian asked. 

"I- I'll break something. Or trip over something. It's too grand." 

"It's just a house," I said. "A very big house, I admit, but as far as we know it's never bitten anyone." 

"You could fit the entire Denerim alienage in these grounds and still have room left over," she said faintly. 

"You'll be fine. Just stay with one of us until you start feeling more comfortable." 

She nodded, but didn't look convinced. 

The main door opened as we approached. I heard Lucien give a startled yelp and a moment later my nug came dashing down the walkway trilling excitedly. I went to my knees to greet him, only half listening to Lucien's complaints about _the blasted beast is positively obsessed with being first out any door._

"But you know that, Lucien. You should be prepared by now," Dorian said. 

I gave Swivet the cookie I had ready for him as Lucien said, "As you say, Dominus Dorian. I — um — see we have another guest?" 

"Oh, yes," Dorian said airily. "A guest and a permanent resident, actually. If you could get quarters prepared for Domina Sivra here, and we will need appropriate dishes, bedding and a box for him." He held up the kitten. 

Lucien blinked, gave a small sniff and said, "Right away. Is there anything else you require?" 

As Dorian requested refreshments, I started to stand. Swivet pawed at me and gave an urgent squeak. I knew what that meant and said, "Oh, no, you're too big for that." He made a noise like a rusty hinge and grasped the lapels of my coat like a small thug. I relented, as he knew I would, and picked him up awkwardly. He really was too big. 

Lucien gave me a jaundiced look and muttered something about "strays" as he turned precisely and strode into the house. I had little doubt who was going to get blamed for the additions to the household, though in this case it really was my doing. 

Sivra's expression had gone from nervous to amused. "What is that thing?" she asked me. 

"This is Swivet," I said, trying to settle him more comfortably in my arms. Swivet squeaked amiably and nuzzled my ear. "He's a nug. You're not familiar with them?" 

She shook her head. "I've never seen one. Where are they from?" 

"They used to be primarily denizens of Orzammar and the Deep Roads, but after the Fifth Blight they apparently decided the rest of Thedas was fair game," Dorian said. "They've managed to cover most of the south from what we've seen. I assume they're taking longer to reach Tevinter because the Blight never made it this far. Shall we go in?" 

"Let's. He's getting heavy," I said, leading the way through the door. 

Sivra followed us hesitantly, eyes wide as she tried to look at everything at once. We went to the back living/gaming room where I set Swivet down so I could take off my coat. 

Dorian looked speculatively from Swivet to the kitten. "Should we see if these two are going to get along?" 

"Now's as good a time as any, I suppose. Just get ready to separate them if things go sideways," I said. 

Dorian set the kitten down on the floor a few feet from Swivet. 

My nug looked at him and scratched behind his ear unconcernedly. 

The kitten approached Swivet stiffly, sniffed, then arched his back, fluffed himself and hopped sideways across the floor. 

Swivet looked up at me then back at the kitten, who was making another cautiously stiff-legged approach. 

Swivet squeaked and the kitten popped straight up in the air, ran in an excited circle and executed another fluffy sideways hop. 

Swivet sniffed the kitten, who hissed, batted at his nose without connecting, and made another mad, circular dash followed by another cautious approach. 

"He's quite fierce, isn't he?" Sivra said. 

"Indeed," Dorian said. "In fact, I believe you've found his name." 

"Which is?" I asked. 

"Ferox," he said, looking pleased with himself. "It means fierce in Tevene." 

I tried the name out and nodded. "I like it. Ferox he is." 

"I think it's safe to leave them to get acquainted. I am positively begrimed with road dust over the detritus of all that bracing salt sea air and something unsavoury and irrevocable may happen if I don't see to removing it," Dorian said. 

The next while was taken up with a flurry of activity as we unpacked, cleaned up, got Sivra settled into a room and all the rest of the faffing about that accompanies getting home from a long trip. When we checked on our pets again, we were pleased to find we had nothing to worry about — Swivet was fast asleep in his basket with Ferox curled up next to him. We relaxed for a while over drinks and went to bed early; even I was tired before the sun came up for once. 


	35. Interlude (5)

Back in that silent place where the reflecting pool sat in solitude, there was nothing to notice the renewed activity at the main house; it may as well have been a universe away. There had been small changes in this unchanging place of late. The owl's unknowing offerings and the summer rain had combined to nourish the liquid that was not water. It had expanded from a very small pool to merely a small one. It still had no thoughts, for thoughts imply sentience, but as it grew, it _quested_ , blindly insensate. _Above_ held nothing, though it had no concept of above. _Around_ was the same material as that which it was resting upon, ever-so-slowly expanding. But _below_ …deep below was a comfortable familiarity. It didn't think of it as such, for there was no thought, but in its unthinking way it _reached_ , touching something as old and blind and formless as itself. 

_Recognition_. 

Deep below, something shifted. 


	36. Part 5: Qarinus

**_A Trip to Hasmal_**

For Dorian and me, the next few days were a welcome return to normalcy. We resumed work on the projects we'd had going, got to know our new kitten, went out with friends and didn't hear from Alectius once, much to our relief. 

Unfortunately, it didn't seem that Sivra shared our opinion. She was quiet and withdrawn, keeping to her quarters and turning down offers to go out or even indulge in a friendly board game. If we hadn’t seen her at meals, we’d barely have known she was there. After three days of this, Dorian and I asked her to join us on the back patio (agreeing anything too formal-looking would likely terrify her). 

She took a seat at the round table and looked nervously at us. "What would you like to talk about? Have I done something wrong?" 

"No, of course not," I said. "But we noticed you don't seem very happy here. Is something wrong? Anything we can help with?" 

She shook her head _no_ , but it didn't take a genius to see she was full of it. 

"Sivra, you won't insult us if you're unhappy about something. We'd be much happier if you'd just tell us," Dorian said gently. 

"It's just — I don't want to sound ungrateful," she said, looking determinedly at the table, "but…it's not the two of you. You've been nothing but lovely. It's…this. _All_ of this." 

"All of what?" I said, watching with amusement as Ferox leapt from an empty chair to the tabletop, picked his way across the table and jumped down to settle himself in Dorian's lap, purring loudly. 

"Well…this place, for one." She gesticulated around herself in a wide arc. "It's _too_ big and too grand. I feel like it wants to eat me." 

Dorian surprised me by saying, "Believe it or not, I know what you mean. I recall feeling like that on occasion as a boy. Odd, I hadn't thought about that in years." 

I was going to have to remember to ask him about that. 

" _Really_?" She relaxed a little, growing more animated. "I mean, your place is very nice; it's just a _lot_. I guess. I don't know. It's just what I feel like. But it's not just this place. It…it's Tevinter. I'm sorry. I know not everyone here is awful. You've proved that. But for me, well, this is where I was a slave and to a lot of people here that's all I'll ever be. Or even if they don't think of me as a slave, I'm still nothing to them and _I_ know I was a slave and I don't want to think or feel that way. I — Andraste's tits, I'm babbling. I'm sorry." 

"It's all right, Sivra," I assured her. "We won't make you stay in Tevinter, and we can certainly understand your feelings. Do you know where you _would_ like to go?" 

She chewed at the inside of her lip. "I wish I did. I haven't been anywhere. I went from the alienage to a ship to a slaver's market. I was a slave in Asariel for a while, then I was a slave in Castra Nicia, and they could have been the same place for all I ever saw of them." 

"I'm curious, if you don't mind my asking something," Dorian said. 

She indicated she didn't. 

"You sound rather well-educated for the limited experience you've had. Did someone teach you? I can't imagine the Denerim alienage was an educational paradise." 

She smiled. "No, it certainly wasn't. My first owner was responsible, but not out of any care for me. He ran an inn for highborn guests. I was young and pretty enough that he wanted me as a suite slave, just like I was in Castra Nicia. Many of the guests want suite slaves for just what you'd think, but not all of them. Some just want company and genial conversation, or they want to hear someone pretty play pretty music, so those of us chosen as suite slaves were taught to speak well and entertainingly on many subjects and to sing or play an instrument or two. I'm awful at singing, so I learned the harp and the lute. That's why I'm not very good at reading — it wasn't considered useful or necessary for us to read well, so we were just taught enough to get by, read simple instructions, that sort of thing." 

"I see." Dorian looked a little nonplussed. "I've met suite slaves before; I just never really thought…" 

"No one does," she said without rancor. "Of all the possible things one can be made to do, suite slave is not so terrible a job. It's not something I'd elect to do now that I have a choice, though." 

"Since you don't really know what you want to do yet, I might have an idea," I said. "Let me look into it, then I'll run it past you. It will get you out of Tevinter. With any luck it shouldn't take me more than an hour." 

I left them talking and, followed by Swivet — who had gotten slightly clingy since Ferox arrived — took a couple of our sending crystals into my workroom. It took closer to an hour and a half to get hold of everyone I needed to talk to, but at the end I thought I'd managed to get everything set up quite nicely as long as Sivra agreed. 

I returned to the patio to find Dorian and Sivra still conversing cheerfully, which was encouraging. "So Sivra," I said, "How do you feel about Hasmal?" 

Her brows drew together. "Hasmal? What's that?" 

I explained what Hasmal is, continuing, "That's where those friends from Denerim I told you about live, as well as some other very nice people. I also have a house there. So, if you like, I've talked to our friends and they'd be happy to help you get started. You could either stay there or move on, but given they don't have an alienage, it's not a bad place for an elf to have a fair chance at a good life. You're welcome to stay at my house, though another friend is staying there too." 

She shook her head disbelievingly. "Why are you being so nice to me? For all you know I'm actually a terrible person." 

"I'm choosing to believe you're not," I said with a smile, "and we're being nice because we want to." 

"Then…I believe I'd like that very much. Hasmal sounds like a wonderful place, but isn't it an awfully long way away?" 

"Not as far as you think," Dorian said. "When would you like to leave?" 

=#= 

Later that night we were preparing to go to bed. Dorian was sitting on the small couch in the bedroom, staring out the window with a troubled look on his face. 

"Something wrong?" I asked, sitting next to him. 

"Yes, actually. I am trying to come to terms with the fact that I am an insensitive boor who is far less progressive than I picture myself." 

"What brought this on?" I said with a brief chuckle. 

"Sivra. You know, I've seen scores of suite slaves over the years, and I never once gave them a moment's thought. They just…came with the room. If they weren't to your liking you could request another, but they were all very pleasant and well spoken." 

"Did you ever use any of them?" 

He flushed. "A few times when I was very much younger. In some odd way I don't think it really registered that they were slaves because the surroundings and the slaves themselves were so pleasant." 

"Well, like you said, it was a long time ago. I can't really imagine what it was like growing up with slavery being so ubiquitous, but I suppose I can see how it would breed a level of habituation over time. At least you've changed since then." 

"Have I?  I wonder." His eyes met mine. "Amatus, when we walked into that suite in Castra Nicia it didn't occur to me for a moment to free Sivra. I would barely have noticed her if it wasn't for you." 

I nodded. "Well, you've learned something, then. And next time you _will_ notice the suite slave and remember that they're people, not mobile furniture. At least when I started making noises about freeing her you agreed and made it happen." 

"For you, not for her." 

"Whatever the reason, you did it and I love you for it. And maybe now that you've talked to Sivra, you're a little more aware of what a shite thing slavery is even when everything looks lovely and pleasant." 

He gave a self-deprecating little laugh. "Kai, you are being far too understanding. You should be telling me sternly that I should have come to that realization years ago." 

"Isn't it better you're telling yourself that? As I recall, I did get pissy about slavery back when we first met and all you did was get defensive back because I was acting like you were somehow personally responsible for it." 

He grinned. "Ah, the good old days." 

"They had their moments, but all in all I prefer the present." 

"Even though we're well past the heady rush of a new romance?" 

"Novelty is fun, but solidity is more rewarding." 

He chuckled. "Well, aren't you the philosopher tonight. I happen to agree, mind you. I certainly never thought I'd be in a situation to think that back then." 

"You just needed to expand your horizons on things in Tevinter society worth rebelling against." 

"Yes, but because I listened to you and put our happiness first, you're now working for the Archon," he pointed out. 

I shrugged. "There are worse things. We don't know that it's necessarily bad, and I consider it worth it." 

"You are still the most stubborn man," he said with a faint smile. 

"Not stubborn," I said, sitting up to stretch. Both my shoulders made popping noises and felt much better. "Relentlessly decent. You said so yourself." 

"Hah. You know, it wasn't that long ago you would never have walked around without a shirt on, even in front of me." 

I'd survived a near-fatal attack by a Fade demon they call a _greater_ _terror_ the first year of the Inquisition; it had left a mass of nasty-looking scars all down my left side from my upper chest to my waist. 

I considered that and nodded. "Well, the scars have faded quite a bit over the years." 

"Hm. Mental as well as physical, I'd say." 

Have I mentioned that Dorian can be very insightful? 

"You're probably right," I said. "And I have you to thank for a great deal of that. So don't think for a moment that you're ever going to get me to say our having a proper relationship was anything but a good thing. I couldn't give a nug's arse about Tevinter tradition, or anyone else's for that matter." 

He gave me a knowing smile. "No, not stubborn at all. Let's go to bed, shall we? I think I've exceeded my capacity for philosophizing tonight." 

"I thought you'd never ask." 

=#= 

The first part of the next day was consumed with preparing for our trip to Hasmal. It was going to be only me escorting Sivra, Dorian having begged off citing Magisterial duties he'd been shirking long enough that they would soon bite him in the arse. My main concern was Sivra didn't know the first thing about riding a horse. As that was the best way to make good time, I needed to ensure she was able to at least sit on the animal without making it nervous or angry. 

I set one of the stablehands to training her while I went over our tentative timetable with Dorian. I planned on leaving mid- to late morning, overnighting in Hasmal and leaving about the same time the next day, which would get me home that night. We'd keep in touch via the same sending crystal that he'd given me in Halamshiral years ago. 

That evening we sat Sivra down and explained to her how we were getting to Hasmal. Unlike Cam, she reacted calmly. She'd been taught in Tevinter that mages could do virtually anything, so to her mind our setting up a pathway somewhere between the real world and the Fade was just a thing those of us with enough power did. 

She confirmed our suspicion that she knew nothing of how to use a weapon and little of unarmed self-defence, and was content to stay out of the way and let me handle any potential combat. I must admit I found her level of passivity unsettling and had to remind myself she'd been conditioned to be that way. 

We discovered she did know how to play Wicked Grace and talked her into joining us for a few games. To our surprise, she was a savvy player, clever and quick-witted in a way she normally didn't demonstrate, and won several hands. It gave me hope some of that passivity would disappear once she grew comfortable with her freedom. 

The trip to Hasmal the next day was fairly uneventful. We gave Sivra the calmest of the horses that were accustomed to the trip through our little slice of Crossroads; she'd proven a quick study at the basics of horsemanship, so as long as nothing untoward happened I felt confident she could hold her own. 

She hesitated only briefly before crossing through the eluvian and seemed delighted by the riot of colours she could see as we travelled the path to Hasmal (to me, of course, everything still appeared relentlessly grey). Luckily, none of the spidery denizens of the place put in an appearance, so the only thing we had to contend with was the mild boredom that goes along with long trips. 

We arrived late in the evening. Cam met us in my house, updating me on the search for Fadik (there'd been no change — it was like she'd dropped off the face of Thedas). 

I had a look around my house and was pleased to see that Cam was taking care of it well. He assured me he wasn't expecting to stay there forever, and had started looking for work and a flat for himself in the northwest district. 

"I can't just wait for news of Fadik forever," he said with a tinge of melancholy. "There's things I can hire on for that don't take me halfway across Thedas and I don't want to just sit on my arse getting fat and stupid. And I figure sooner or later you're gonna want your house back." 

"At least if you stay in Hasmal, I can reach you if we do find out anything," I said. "Besides, you have to admit it's better than bloody Wildervale." 

"You don't want to pay a return visit to Brod and Arvid?" Cam smirked. 

"I will be content if I never see him and that mentally stunted bear again," I said. 

After a quick trip to drop the horses at the stables, we took Sivra over to Sera and Dagna's to introduce her at a little gathering we'd arranged beforehand. Sivra was shy at first, retreating into quiet passivity, but became more outgoing as time passed and she got more comfortable. I gained the impression Sera intimidated her, but she seemed to like Dagna a great deal. 

I'd never had more than one person stay over at my house when I lived there, so we had to work out sleeping arrangements that night (Cam and I shared my bed while Sivra took the couch). I'd leave it to the two of them to work out for themselves once l left. 

As we prepared to retire, I couldn't resist saying, "Now that you've been here a while, you should understand what a real bed is." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cam said. 

"It means I don't know what to call that torture device you have in your bedroom in Wildervale, but it's not a bed." 

"I never had a problem with it. Maybe it's some human thing. I will admit this one's grand, though." He looked from me to the bed and back. "Um. Kai…" 

"What?" 

He raked a hand through his already-spiky hair. "I'm not trying to sound like a twat or anything, but…you're not gonna want to — you know — do anything, are you?" 

I knew what he was getting at, but couldn't quite believe it. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to burst out laughing or smack him in the head. I said, " _Do_ anything?" 

He flushed, making the scar on his left cheek stand out in sharp contrast. "Well, yeah. Like, together. 'Cause I'm not, um…" 

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you Dorian?" 

He blinked. "No." 

"Then why would you assume I'd want to do anything with you?" 

"I-I mean. I sound like a wanker, don't I?" 

"Yes, you do." I wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily. "You just assumed because I'm attracted to men I wouldn't be able to resist you?" 

"Well, just — you know — being in the same bed." 

"Do you try to fuck every female you know? Even if you're not attracted to them or know they're not attracted to you?" I asked. 

"Well…no." 

"Then what makes you think I'll be overcome with lust for you?" 

He gave me a funny little smile. "'Cause I'm pretty _and_ athletic?" 

I snorted. "Maybe you are, but you're not Dorian. Sorry to disappoint you." 

"I'm not disappointed!" he yelped. "I was just…oh bollocks. I was being stupid and daft. Sorry, Kai." 

"Apology accepted. Just don't go thinking that shite again. It's insulting. I've heard enough people spouting off about us _mages_ supposedly not being able to control ourselves without you adding that _kaffas_ to the mix." 

He nodded, looking abashed. 

I added, "The only interaction I'll have with your arse is to kick it if you try to take all the blankets." 

He gave me a cautious smile. "Deal. I'm a thief, but not of blankets." 

_=#=_

The next day I took Sivra around to arrange for clothes and footwear to be made for her then left her to get better acquainted with Cam while I finished the rest of my errands. Ademar and Dagna looked over my arm and declared it in perfect shape, which was a relief after Castra Nicia. I visited a few friends and my banker, gathered what little mail I'd received, said my goodbyes, let Dorian know I was leaving and was back through the eluvian before lunch. The return trip was dull enough that I was almost hoping for a damned spider-thing or two to break the monotony, but aside from a chorus of ululating howls once far away, there was no sign of them.


	37. Anniversary

I got home late in the evening, and everything was dark and silent when I entered the house. Lucien was off at that time of night, but I'd expected Dorian to be right there and wondered if he'd been called to Qarinus. I hung up my coat and cast a small light, making my way from the main entrance down the hallway to the back of the house. 

As I entered the games room, a bobbing orb of cyan light greeted me. I extinguished my own and followed it through the room, down a hallway and through another room to a set of ornate doors. 

The doors opened onto a patio I didn't recall seeing before. Its floor contained an elaborate mosaic of the moons surrounded by a field of stars, the whole thing encircled by a snakelike, red-gold dragon. Wisteria and other plants I couldn't identify were planted around the perimeter, providing both beauty and privacy, and the air was lightly perfumed. 

A smallish, round table stood at one side flanked by two chairs. Rather than candles, two conjured lights of cool blue hovered above the centre of the table, illuminating an assortment of finger food and drinks. The cyan light joined others circling the patio, giving it a soft, almost surreal ambience. The first time Dorian had done lights like that had been years ago — before we'd even properly gotten together — for a private little celebration of my birthday. 

Dorian rose from the chaise longue he'd been reclining on, saying, "There you are. Welcome home." 

I smiled. "What is all this?" 

He _tsk_ ed at me. "First you say hello; explanations will follow." 

"I apologize. Hello, amatus." 

We embraced and he gave me a kiss that left me slightly breathless. "—Wow. So what is all this?" I reiterated. 

We sat at the table. He chilled a beer and handed it to me, pouring a glass of wine for himself. 

"Under normal circumstances we'd both have a glass of this fine vintage, but I have reconciled myself to the idea that you honestly don't like wine," he said. 

"I appreciate that." 

"How was Hasmal?" 

"Still intact. I talked to you from there, remember?" I took a sip of beer. 

He gave me a knowing smile. "Ah, speaking of memory, it appears you've retained slightly less than I, though you have been preoccupied the past few days, I admit. Were I less understanding, I might well be hurt." 

I was not only confused, but starting to worry that I'd made some dreadful mistake. "I've forgotten something important, haven't I?" 

"Important? Perhaps. It has significance of a sentimental sort." 

"I'm probably going to hate myself for this but…I give up. I have no idea what I've forgotten," I admitted. 

That smile was still playing about his lips. "It was six years ago today that you strode into the Redcliffe Chantry and closed a rift. Ring a bell?" 

"Of course. It only turned out to be the best day of my life. How in the world did you remember the date?" 

He raised an eyebrow. "How did you not?" 

I gave him an arch smile. "I was too busy thinking about this Tevinter mage I'd just met; the days of the week became irrelevant." 

"I will accept that as a legitimate reason to have forgotten. I _do_ have that effect on people." 

"People?" I demanded. "That's all I am? Part of the teeming masses that can't resist your charms?" 

"My admirers _are_ legion," he said, smoothing his moustache. "But you are, after all, the only one who is allowed to see me even when I'm dishevelled." 

"And in dishabille," I added, making him smile. "At the risk of overfeeding your ego, you look wonderful both ways. You should try it more often." 

"You only find it fascinating because I'm normally so impeccably groomed. I couldn't bear to remove the excitement of such novelty for you by doing it too frequently," he said with mock concern. 

"Your altruism humbles me," I saluted him with my beer. "Was it really today we met?" 

"Oh yes, I've always remembered the date. So many things were going wrong, including that blasted rift opening when I was waiting for you in the Chantry. Of course, I wasn't expecting _you_." He sipped his wine, looking amused. 

"What were you expecting?" 

"From what I'd heard, the Inquisition was some sort of rogue offshoot of the Chantry. I was expecting someone…clerical, I suppose. The words _grim_ and _disapproving_ were high on my list of expectations. Just the word that their leader was a mage was surprising, really. I was assuredly not expecting a dangerous-looking black-leather-clad man with a shaved head." 

"You thought I was dangerous-looking?" 

"Don't dissemble. You know very well what you look like when you're all armoured up." 

I tried not to smirk and didn't quite succeed. "Still, it's nice to hear. I didn't think I'd made much of an impression on you that day." 

"Quite the contrary. I was pleasantly surprised about many things. I certainly didn't expect the vaunted Inquisitor to have a sense of humour about — well, anything. Something called the Inquisition suggests they have _rules_ against excessive levity. You were also quite a bit more…athletic than I'd imagined. If poor Felix were alive, he'd be able to tell you I spent far more time speculating about you than was strictly warranted." 

"I did the same about you. Remember, I was expecting Felix. Instead I walked in and there you were, holding your own against an open rift and how many demons."

“And looking fabulous while doing it,” he said, striking a sultry pose.

“That goes without saying. You always look fabulous.” I gave him a small salute with my drink.  “At least you had Felix to talk to. I had no one. I had to obsess to myself while they all carried on as though you weren’t the most fascinating part of that visit to Redcliffe.” 

"No one? Really? You should try one of these canapés with the cheese. They're quite tasty." 

I tried one and found it as advertised. "No, not a soul. Not in the beginning. I didn't know those people well at all, and they were more interested in me as a figurehead and potentially effective leader. It took some time before they started considering me a person." 

"Not that you were at all bitter about it," he said with a smile. 

"It was a long time ago. I'm only mildly bitter about it now.” I chuckled. “The first person to know anything about my sudden obsession was Sera, and that’s because she figured it out and told me so.” 

Dorian smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

“I can also admit that a good deal of the reason I chose to return to Redcliffe and deal with Alexius was because I wanted to see you again, and it seemed to be the only way to ensure that." 

"Truly?" He looked pleased. "It seems I made more of an impression than I dreamed as well. Of course, I had no idea at the time that you might conceivably be interested." 

"You didn't think it was possible?" 

"Remember, amatus, despite those refreshing departures I saw in you, I was still under the impression that you were likely allied with the Chantry and they are a humourless lot. Additionally, most of you southerners have a rather dim view of Tevinter mages. _And_ as you know, a majority of the time the other man really _isn't_ interested." 

I made a noise of acknowledgement as I drank my beer. "So if I hadn't chosen as I did — Cullen in particular was squawking endlessly that we should try to recruit the Templars rather than return to Redcliffe — would that have been the last I saw of you?" 

"Certainly not," he said with a smile. "I would have shown up chilled and bedraggled on your doorstep at Haven sooner or later. I was determined to join the Inquisition and make a difference. The fact that the Inquisitor turned out to be a most intriguing man was just icing on the proverbial cake." 

"I still don't think it was necessary for you to play coy as long as you did," I complained. 

"You don't think it made the eventual capitulation that much sweeter?" 

"No. It was physically, mentally and emotionally frustrating. You had to know I was interested." 

"And you know why that worried me," he countered. "I _do_ recall one occasion where you told _me_ we should wait." 

"I didn't want our first time to forever be _we banged on a desk_." 

"I suppose that could be embarrassing to tell our non-existent grandchildren." He ate a couple of hors d'oeuvres and sipped his wine. "Besides, I didn't make you wait _that_ long." 

" _Hah_. It took weeks of flirting before you'd even admit you like men.  And you picked one fuck of a place to do that. _I prefer the company of men_ ,” I repeated in portentous tones.  “Like I was going to be shocked." 

He shook his head, his mien somewhere between abashed and melancholy. "I admit that was not the ideal situation." 

"It's not like I felt I could say 'It's about fucking time you admitted it' when you were in the middle of confronting your father about what he’d done to you." 

He chuckled. "No, you just made it clear you prefer men as well. As I said then, you weren’t exactly subtle.” 

It was nice to see he'd come far enough along that he could laugh about aspects of that day. "Because I was incredulous. I couldn’t believe what it took to get you to say it. And your father was pissing me off. You know me — it made me _want_ to be blunt.”

“You do have a persistent imp of the perverse when it comes to that sort of thing,” he said drily.

I smiled my agreement. “You know, I’d half decided you were hesitant to say anything due to my lack of skill at flirting. It's not like I'd done much before and suddenly you're forcing me into master-level flirtation." 

"And I enjoyed every moment of it." 

“Beast. I think you just liked torturing me.”

He gave me a mischievous smirk. “There may have been an element of that as well, but only because I planned on alleviating your torment as creatively and often as you liked.” 

“You did do that. It _almost_ made the frustration worth it.” I took a slow drink. "Can I ask you something? I don't want to sound ungrateful." 

"Ask away." 

"Why now? After six years? You never did this before." 

He shrugged. "It never felt right when we were down south — don't ask me why, but something about Skyhold made me feel like I'd be jinxing things for us — and last year everything was so cursed chaotic. This is the first year we've been _officially_ together and actually had a moment to breathe. I felt perhaps it was time to commemorate that moment that changed my life so grandly and utterly." 

" _Our_ lives," I corrected. 

"As you say," he raised his glass in a small salute. "I didn't think you'd feel like going into town after travelling to Hasmal and back, so I improvised." 

"I'm both touched and impressed. This is wonderful, Dorian." 

He smiled as he poured himself some more wine. "I wanted to have a ghostly string quartet playing in the background, but I haven't yet been able to fashion a spell that will do that reliably." 

"I have faith that you will. In the meantime, we can continue to improvise. I suppose I could _hum_." 

"That won't be necessary, amatus," he said with a slight smile. "Despite the lack of accompaniment, would you care to dance?" 

"I'd like that very much." 

And for the rest of the night we didn't concern ourselves with anything but each other.


	38. An Unexpected Guest

The next few weeks were so completely normal and uneventful it was almost alarming. We received a terse note from Alectius informing us that the Archon was pleased with our handling of Castra Nicia and they would be in touch when our services were required again. 

Naturally, he didn't mention what they'd done with the Venatori Rectus; I was convinced if we looked into it we'd find them set up with all the equipment and people they needed to continue their research into perfect possession. 

Otherwise, we spent a great deal of time working on projects, going out together or with Maevaris and other Qarinus friends, playing with Ferox and Swivet… _normal_ things. The weather had gone back to its madly hot setting, which meant Dorian was in his glory while, when I had to venture outside, I tried to stick to shady areas, drank chilled drinks and cast cooling spells. I don't know that I'll ever get completely used to that sort of heat. 

Once again, it was mail that signified things were about to get interesting. We were sorting through a stack on the back patio. Dorian was mostly getting updates from his Lucerni and notes requesting his endorsement or financial contribution to a bewildering array of causes. The latter were annoying him more with each one he opened. 

I had tossed the latest round of arguments from the Chantry accountants onto the table, resisting the urge to incinerate it, and opened something more interesting. 

"Hunh. You're never going to believe this," I said. 

"Believe what? I'll happily believe anything you like if it'll get me away from reading this _kaffas_ ," Dorian groused. 

"It's a letter from Mother. She says my father has made noises suggesting he _might_ be persuaded to come visit us." 

" _Here_?" Dorian's eyebrows flew towards his hairline. "I thought he said he'd never set foot in Tevinter." 

"She's been working on him. A dual-edged attack of insisting they should meet you and maintaining that Qarinus isn't the same as setting foot in Minrathous. He still thinks I should bring _you_ to Ostwick, but she's using the Magister card as an excuse why that can't happen." 

"One of these days you should take me to Ostwick. You're so unimpressed with it you've made me curious." 

I shrugged. "We can go if you want, but I'd really like to get them up here first. Let them see that it's not as beastly as they think." 

"And that you really have done well?" he added with a knowing glance. 

"Well…yes. They've never been to my place in Hasmal, they never saw Skyhold…in fact, the only place I've lived that they _saw_ was a one-room flat in a lousy neighbourhood in Ostwick back when I first left the Circle. Can you blame me for wanting to put a different picture in their minds?" 

"Not at all. Anything else of note from the old home town?" 

I shook my head as I finished reading. "Same old, looks like. She says hello to you." I picked up the next envelope and opened it. "Well, well…this is interesting." 

"Why do you get all the interesting mail?" 

"I'm apolitical, therefore I'm the fun one. Hey!" The last was a yelp because he'd fired a small bolt of electricity at me. "Arse. According to this, Kaeso wants to meet with me." 

"With you? Why just with you?" 

"He doesn't say." 

Dorian snorted. "Typical. When and where?" 

"Minrathous. At my convenience so long as he deems it convenient for himself as well." 

"Well I like that." 

"It's not personal. He just feels that he and I have a kinship you don't share," I said. 

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, meet with him. He must know you'll tell me all about it regardless." 

"You know him — if he doesn't feel like he's orchestrating things somehow, he's not happy." 

Kaeso Asina was technically working for Dorian and the Lucerni as a…secret weapon, I suppose you'd say. He could and did do everything from tampering with mail up to assassination; his only real criterion was that he find it interesting. 

I'd been responsible for recruiting him the year before. He was a self-absorbed, emotionally flat, often sadistic stone-cold killer, but he was also bright, creative and oddly charming. He'd had about the worst luck you could have in Tevinter society — born into a prestigious Altus family, yet he didn't possess one whit of magical ability. They'd disowned him and tried to cover up all evidence of his existence. 

That was why he felt a kinship with me — in southern society my being a mage had been just as unwelcome news, the only difference being the Templars had seized me before my family had to decide what to do with me. I couldn't imagine what he wanted of me, but I was sure it wouldn't be boring. 

Dorian read over something that must have been another plea for money, because he did incinerate it. "When do you plan on going?" 

"I don't know. Is there anything we're doing that I should take into consideration?" 

"Depends on when you plan on going," he said, throwing the onus back on me. 

"I'll think about it. You want to come with?" 

"And languish unwanted and bereft somewhere _out of the way_ while you meet with Kaeso? I'll think about it." 

=#= 

A few nights later, after another day where my greatest accomplishment had been to avoid sunburn, we were playing cribbage in the games room. There was a perfectly good table we could have played at, but Ferox had fallen asleep on Dorian's lap so he stayed seated on the couch while I set up the game on the coffee table and sat farther down with Swivet parked between us. For some reason, our nug found the game fascinating. It was cute, but he kept trying to take the cards until I handed him his own joker to hang onto (it became 'his' personal card ever after, as he wouldn't stop nibbling on it). We were tied after four rounds and close enough to the end that the game would be decided in the next hand or two. 

I had just drawn the cards I needed to peg out and win when Lucien entered the room looking vaguely annoyed. He cleared his throat politely. 

Dorian said, "What is it, Lucien?" 

"Another of Dominus Kai's _strays_ is at the door. A young lady this time; she claims to be his sister." 

"Danae?" I said. 

"I believe that was the name, yes. Shall I show her in?" 

"Of course. Thank you, Lucien." 

As he left, Dorian raised an eyebrow at me. 

I shrugged. "Don't look at me; I had no idea she was planning on visiting." I frowned at my cards. "She could at least have waited until I beat you." 

He smiled sweetly. "We must obviously abandon this game to greet your loving sister, amatus." 

"Or we could consider it paused for the moment. It won't take any time at all to finish, I promise." I gave him a guileless smile back. 

Further debate was cut short by Lucien's return. "Domina Danae Trevelyan," he announced and glided away, leaving my sister standing at the end of the room. 

She was holding an alarmingly large travelling bag which she now dropped. She gave us a quirky little grin and said, "Hello, brother, and you must be Dorian." 

"I must," Dorian agreed. 

"And this is Swivet; I told you about him too," I added, scratching him in the spot he likes between his ears. 

"I remember. Hello, Swivet." She smiled at all of us as though she was competing for a prize. 

Swivet sniffed in her general direction and gave a cautiously friendly squeak. 

"Oh, cute. He's not actually playing cards, is he?" 

"He thinks he is," Dorian said. 

On his lap, Ferox opened his eyes and yawned, stretching and flexing his claws as he did. Unfortunately, Dorian's leg was underneath those claws and he yelped. Ferox _mmrrp_ ed conversationally and looked incuriously at the newcomer as Dorian continued, "And this collection of needles cleverly disguised as a kitten is Ferox. I believe you've met the entire household now." 

"So, Danae, it's wonderful to see you but…why are we seeing you?" I said. "Would you care to have a seat and tell us?" 

"Don't mind if I do, thanks." She flopped into an armchair across from us and raked both hands through unruly chestnut hair. "Ugh. I had no idea Qarinus was so _far_." 

A servant entered the room to ask if we required anything. I requested beer, Dorian opted for wine, and my little sister went for Antivan brandy with a beer chaser. 

Once we were all fortified, I raised an eyebrow at her and said, "Well?" 

"I'm sorry, I know I should've asked before barging in on you, but then you might've said no." 

"What would we have found so objectionable?" Dorian said, cocking his head to one side like a curious puppy. 

"Well…If you don't mind — and really, the size of this place why would you, but that sounds like an obnoxious thing to say, never mind — I kind of was hoping I could stay here. Just for a bit, of course." She gave us another bright smile. "We could all get to know each other!" 

I feigned confusion. "All of us? Dorian and I already know each other quite well." 

She rolled her eyes at me. "Don't be an arse. You know what I mean." 

"So why this sudden desire to get to know us better?" 

She sipped her drink. "Well…some of it's your fault." 

" _My_ fault?" 

She sighed dramatically. "Okay, I'll try to condense this because it's a long story. You remember when we finally properly met last year, and I told you about how I was apprenticing in Antiva to be a silversmith?" 

"I have some slight recollection. Mother and Father were so very tickled about that." 

She bit back a smirk. "Well. My apprenticeship just ended. You're looking at a journeyman silversmith." 

We both made congratulatory noises. 

"So I'm confused — how does that necessitate a trip to Qarinus and why is anything my fault?" I said. 

"Because normally I'd stay with the man I was apprenticing under a while longer then find another, master silversmith in Antiva City to work with for a few more years, but I can't. See, his wife found out my brother is a mage who lives in Tevinter and is married to a Magister—" 

"Well, we're not officially married," Dorian said. 

"Bollocks. You might as well be. Everything I've heard, you two are more married than most married people I've met. Anyway, the problem is, my master's wife used to be a slave. In Tevinter, attached to a Magister's household, but doing labour work on one of their outlying estates. Then she escaped and went through all kinds of grief before reaching Antiva. So you can imagine she doesn't think too highly of Tevinter or magisters. She let me finish my apprenticeship, but she wanted me gone. Said just knowing brought up too many bad feelings in her. So that part is your fault, Kai." 

"Technically it's Dorian's fault for having the bad judgment to be Tevinter and a Magister," I objected. 

"Well I like that," Dorian said with an affected sniff. "Cad. And after all I've done for you." 

"Yeah, but out of anyone you could've picked, you fell in love with the only Tevinter Magister in all of southern Thedas. That takes some real effort," Danae said. 

"She's got you there, amatus." 

"So you're telling us there was no one else in all of Antiva you could study under?" I said, going heavy on the skepticism. 

"No, obviously I could have found someone given enough time and effort. There were other reasons I had to leave," she admitted. 

"Now that we've covered the part you claim was my fault, what's the rest?" I gave her a baleful glare. 

She downed the rest of her drink and said, "Do you mind if I have another of these? Do you need to ring a servant or can you just magic something up?" 

"Alas, no one has yet mastered materializing alcoholic beverages from thin air," Dorian said as he cast the spell that called for a servant. "If someone did, I daresay mages would be a great deal more popular." 

Once the beverage situation was sorted out, Danae continued. "Okay, so the rest: Mother and Father know I'm done my apprenticeship too. They're insisting I come back to Ostwick and learn everything I need to know to take over from Father as Bann, not to mention I'm getting prodded to ensure there's immediate family to carry things on. You don't know how lucky you are you managed to dodge that arrow." 

I stared at her. "Lucky?" 

"Okay, okay, the being locked in a circle was shite, I won't say it wasn't, but even if you weren't a mage, they wouldn't be pushing you and Dorian to produce an heir or two." 

"No, they'd _expect_ me to marry a nice girl from some Free Marches nobility, produce the heirs and take over from Father." 

Dorian grinned. "Maybe she's right about your dodging a few arrows after all, oh eldest child. It'd be Danae here getting to do whatever she wants, since she'd only be backup." 

"Or knowing Father's side of the family, they'd be pushing to dedicate her to the Chantry," I said a little snidely. "So you think hiding up here will curb their enthusiasm?" 

"No, but it would give me some room to breathe. I'm not necessarily against taking over from Father, or even producing a few new family members, but if I do I want it to be when I'm ready. And I _don't_ want to marry some spoiled, gormless noble twat that everyone's parents picked because politics," she said, glaring at her drink and then us. 

"Sounds reasonable to me," Dorian said. 

I nodded. "Me too. I probably would have been much worse about it. Scratch probably; definitely." I looked at Dorian. "It would've been your situation all over again. Well, without the blood magic." 

Danae brightened. "Does this mean I can stay?" 

"Didn't you say there was something else?" 

She looked down at her hands, an odd, squinchy little frown on her face. "Yes, but it was just an Antiva thing. Made it a little more imperative that I leave. It's over with now, so it's not important." 

"You're sure it's over?" I asked. 

She nodded. "Very over." 

"Then you don't have to tell us if you don't want to. What do you think, Dorian?" 

"I suppose we could take pity on your itinerant waif of a sister. Is there anyone else we should be expecting?" 

"I expect it'll be someone from your debauched past next," I said with a grin then turned my attention to Danae. "All right, you can stay for a while, but you do need to decide what you're doing; 'a while' does not mean 'until you're forty and have filled the east wing with cats'." 

She laughed. "Deal. And thank you both. I'm an asshole to come asking favours like this when you barely know me and this is the first time Dorian's even met me. I just didn't know where else to go." 

Dorian called Lucien in to update him and sort out what all was needed. As the major-domo led Danae and her bag to her new quarters, we looked at each other. 

"She's got some of your talent," Dorian said, stroking Ferox absently. The kitten purred with more volume than something his size should have been able to produce. 

"My talent?" Swivet butted his head under my hand; I indulged him by scratching around his ears as he made himself comfortable using my thigh as a pillow. 

"She did just manage to barge in here unannounced and get exactly what she wanted." 

"Yes, but it's different when it's family. You kind of have to," I said. "Perhaps we should just go hide out in Hasmal for a while." 

"We could keep that open as an option, though I guarantee someone would find us there too. Not to mention you've let both Cam and Sivra move into your house." 

"Hm. True. I suppose we'll just have to muddle through up here, then. You don't mind that she's here, do you?" 

He smiled. "She does have a point about there being enough room that any objections would be senseless. Besides, she's your sister, so I'm assuming she must possess at least a few of your redeeming qualities. I'd like to get to know her and you _should_ get to know her." 

"You're right, but thank you for letting her stay. It already feels strange. I'm…not used to having family." 

He dangled a piece of string so Ferox could bat at it. "Nor am I. At least, not for a very long time." 

"So…should we finish that game?" 

Dorian made a great show of looking towards the back hallway. "I don't think there's time. I'm sure I hear your sister coming back." 

=#= 

The next few days were…interesting. When Sivra had stayed with us, we'd barely been aware of her existence. Not so with Danae. My sister was neither shy nor retiring and made herself at home with alacrity. It was giving Lucien fits. 

First she'd moved a set of spindly chairs and a matching table out of her suite, complaining she felt they might break if she even _looked_ at them too hard. Then she moved a much sturdier set in despite Lucien's insistence that they belonged in the 'dining nook', wherever that was. 

Next he found she'd instructed Rogerian, the head gardener, to have a collection of fresh flowers arranged and delivered to her every two days, which was fine, but she also requested one of the magically enhanced ornamental trees be potted and brought to her suite. The trees glowed softly at night and made little crystalline noises when you moved close to them, so I could see why she liked them. 

I suspect Lucien was thinking about shedding leaves or having to haul the plant away if she managed to kill it. (I didn't know if she was good with plants; personally I'm walking death to them. I keep forgetting to tend to them until they're moments from expiring.) Regardless, the tree edict left him cross for an entire afternoon. 

Her request that she also be allowed a space to continue her silversmithing didn't delight him either. It was one thing setting me up with a workshop — at least I was doing magical things. The idea of someone doing smithing on the premises was another thing entirely. He spent the better part of that day shaking his head and muttering _molten_ under his breath. 

The morning after she arrived, I'd gotten up about an hour after Dorian and gone to the back patio (where we usually gravitated when the weather was hot) to find the two of them in a spirited conversation about the seamier side of Antiva City. I was content to drink my coffee and listen, given I'd never been to Antiva. 

She was an animated and articulate storyteller, which made me think it a pity she'd decided to go into silversmithing rather than developing that talent into something more. 

Those first few days especially, she probably spent more time talking to Dorian than me, which really didn't bother me. Because of our history — or lack of it — we both felt a little nervous around each other, our conversations coloured by a tentativeness borne of not wanting to fuck things up. Really, I was delighted that the two of them hit it off so well. It took some of the pressure off and gave us a comfortable way to ease into building a relationship, with Dorian as a buffer against any moments of awkwardness. Not to mention it was nice to know the first family member to meet the man I was in love with also liked him. 

It did mean I stuck Kaeso's request on the back burner. He hadn't indicated a great deal of urgency, and I didn't want to disappear for days right after Danae arrived. 

I suggested we could all make the trip to Minrathous and show her the city. It would make it feel more worthwhile than travelling all the way there for a meeting that would likely last less than an hour. Danae seemed to like the idea, and Dorian said having her along might make him feel marginally less rejected when I went to meet with Kaeso. We started plans to make a proper holiday out of it.


	39. Dorian - A Private Chat

**~~**

Hello again! _Stealthy_! Dorian here. You're to imagine me whispering this to you with a sense of great urgency, as I'm sneaking these pages into Kai's manuscript. 

You see, this is a thing that Kai didn't know. It's not world-changing, but to be honest, I think it is rather charming and should be included, even though I'm sacrificing my façade of urbane cynicism to do so. 

The second night after Kai's sister moved herself in, I was walking down the hall past her quarters when I heard someone whisper, "Pssst! Dorian!" 

Having never been on the receiving end of an actual _pssst!_ before, I naturally stopped to investigate. It was Danae, peeking through her barely open door. I sidled up to her and whispered, "What is it?" 

"Do you have a minute? Kai's not with you, is he?" 

"If he was, I assure you he would have noticed us whispering in your doorway by now. He's quite clever that way." 

She smiled sheepishly and opened her door wider. "This is why I didn't choose a career in espionage. _Do_ you have a minute?" 

"Of course. In fact, I have several minutes available. You've gotten me wildly curious now." 

"Come in." She ushered me into her room and shut the door. She was wearing form-fitting trousers dyed a deep, rich green and a black, tunic-like shirt that buttoned up the front. The buttons were all silver, embossed with a swirling, delicate pattern I suspected was her own creation. She folded herself into an overstuffed armchair with a boneless grace I was sure I'd never possessed even at my most flexible stage of life. 

"I'll warn you any attempt to ravish me will be fruitless. That fantasy some people have about relations with multiple family members never plays out happily in real life," I said. 

She laughed. "Don't worry, you're safe. You're attractive, but I know you're not interested, and even if you were, I'm not. I don't poach." 

"Neither do I. Leaves the insides of the eggs all runny and I can't abide runny yolks." 

She rolled her eyes. "That joke was worthy of my father. I just wanted to talk to you alone for a minute." 

"I am, as they say, all ears," I replied as I sat down across from her. 

"First, I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay. I mean, I know you don't know me. _Kai_ barely knows me, and you're both being so nice to me." 

I shrugged. "You're Kai's sister. Therefore chances are good that you possess at least some redeeming qualities." 

She smiled. "That doesn't always follow, but thanks. I just— The reasons I told you and Kai that I wanted to stay with you for a while are all true, but there's one more I wanted you to know." 

"Well, you certainly know how to get my attention. Whatever would be for my ears only?" 

She took a deep breath as if she was preparing for a dissertation. I noticed her eyes were a rather pretty blue-green that the colour of her trousers complemented. "I…Kai's told you about everything, hasn't he? When the Templars came? How I was just a baby when they took him away?" 

I nodded. "Yes, he’s told me the whole sordid story, and for once I’m not using ‘sordid’ ironically." 

"Then you know how he felt, and what he went through. Andraste's balls, you probably know way more than I do. There were all sorts of things my parents wouldn't talk about when it came to them and Kai, and why things were so messed up between them." 

I smiled. "As your brother so often says, it's complicated." 

She huffed out a sigh. "I know. And I know a lot of it is private and awful and none of my business. But my whole life, it's been this big, unspoken _thing_ in the background. Like, here's an example— the whole time I was a girl, right up until I was maybe fourteen or fifteen, they _watched_ me; not in an overprotective way, but because they were terrified I was going to turn out to be magic too. It was this awful, frightening threat that was always there — the idea that I'd get magic and the Templars would come and take me away too. And no one could tell me it wasn't real or it couldn't happen because it _did_ happen to my own family. I knew it had happened to a brother I didn't even remember, and that it broke something in my parents and my family, and it could happen to me." 

She gave me a tight, pained little smile. "When I was little I didn't even really know what Templars were; I imagined them as giant, horrible monsters in huge suits of armour that broke into your house and snatched children away. I had nightmares about them. When I got a bit older, my imagination got more sophisticated, and I thought someone might accuse me of being magic and they'd take me away just to be safe, since they knew in my family it was possible. I didn't think like that _all_ the time, but it was always there, you know?" 

I shook my head, appalled at what I was hearing. "That's…terrible, Danae." I didn't know what else to say. 

Her lips twitched in a not-quite-smile. "Lots of people have terrible things happen. I think I got off easier than Kai. I just wanted you to understand the backdrop to my life growing up. When I was little, I was scared of Kai. He was why bad things had happened that made my parents sad, and the Chantry said that mages had to be locked up because they would hurt people, and they all could turn into monsters any second, and if you let them out they'd try to rule us all like in Tevinter — sorry — and make slaves of us and hack people up for blood magic." 

"I've heard a few of those delightful tales," I said. 

"I can imagine," she said, rolling her eyes. She sat forward, resting her forearms on the tops of her thighs. "When I was real little, my two aunts on my father's side used to take me to the Chantry every week and I'd hear that filth about mages. After Chantry the aunts would take me out to eat, and they'd spend the whole time reinforcing it. I mean, they were _vicious_ about how terrible mages are. It's like they blamed Kai for making us Trevelyans look bad to the Chantry, you know?" 

"Charming. How long did that go on?" 

Now she did smile. "Over a year. Until I was five. You know my parents were getting notes from the Circle just to let them know he was okay, right?" 

I nodded. "I know all about that side of the story." 

"Good. Well, he'd passed some big-deal test and the Circle said they could go see him. They told me they were bringing me too so I could meet him, and I burst into tears and said I didn't want to be hacked up and killed because he'd be a monster or something silly like that. I don't actually remember; I just know I was terrified, and it was all those stupid stories the Chantry and the aunts told that were in my head. I'm not boring you, am I?" 

"Certainly not. I'm finding this appalling and fascinating at the same time." I knew the lasting damage that my amatus had from what had happened to him, but this was the first time I'd considered what Kai's family had gone through, and part of me couldn't help but think _and they have the gall to call us cruel and barbaric._

"Just let me know if I do. I've never told anyone this whole story before. Most people just wouldn't understand, you know?" 

"I'm painfully aware of that," I assured her. 

"Well. They asked me where in the world I'd gotten those ridiculous ideas, and I told them _at Chantry! The aunts said so too!_ — bawling my head off as I said it. Maker, was Mother furious; Father's side is the pious one, you know. The next thing I knew my nanny was giving me ice cream because Mother'd gone off somewhere in a full-on rage and Father'd gone to his study — he just shuts down when he gets really angry —" 

I chuckled. "Kai does the same thing. And he sulks." 

"You poor thing." She smiled. "Isn't that annoying? You can't even have a proper fight with them." 

"So few people understand," I mourned. "So what happened?" 

"That was the last Chantry service I ever had to attend. Well, except for the obligatory ones where the Trevelyans are _expected_ to put in an appearance. Everyone spent a great deal of time trying to teach and jolly the Chantry nonsense out of me, and the aunts were never invited to our house again." 

"They didn't try to cause you further trouble?" 

"If they did, the parents never told me." 

I suspected that was the case, fanatics of every stripe being notoriously unwilling to take no for an answer. 

She slouched back into her chair, a far-away look on her face. "By the time we went to visit Kai, I wasn't terrified of him, but I was scared. I don't remember much about it except there were men and women in armour watching us the whole time — I didn't realize those were the Templars; I was still picturing them as monsters — and everyone seemed uncomfortable. Because everything I'd heard and imagined had gotten mushed up in my spongy little five-year-old mind, Kai seemed really big and scary. I know now he was just a seventeen-year-old kid and he was probably nervous, but when you're five… Well, I tried to hide behind my parents and hoped no one would notice me." 

I smiled. "He noticed you were scared. He also told me he'd acted… _like a prat_ were his exact words, I believe." 

"That I don't remember," she said with a little laugh. "It was the only time they took me. The Circle wasn't big on letting family visit and I think they thought it would just confuse me. Or maybe they wanted to keep me away from it, I don't know." 

"Did they ever explain to you what actually happened?" I asked. 

"Father did when I was old enough to understand. Mother didn't like to talk about it. It seemed to make her really angry, but she'd never say who she was mad at. Father just seemed…sad. He didn't go into a lot of detail, but he did try to make sure I understood what happened wasn't Kai's fault." 

I wondered if Kai knew that. From what he'd told me, even after the visit last year where he and his parents had actually _talked_ for the first time, it was very possible he didn't. 

Danae raked her hands through her hair. "Then my whole weird childhood passed, though things got a lot more normal once it became clear I wasn't a mage. And the next time I saw him, _I_ acted like a prat." 

"When he left the Circle?" 

She nodded. "I was nineteen, which means he was…thirty-one. Maker, that seems so strange. To think my whole life he'd been locked away like he was some kind of murderer. Anyway, I walked out to the back courtyard because I wanted to ask Mother something or other, and I see my parents sitting at the table with this bald guy wearing all black and my father says, 'Danae, your brother's here.' Kai was looking at me and he looked so _intense_ , you know?" 

I laughed. "He has a knack for that." 

She shook her head. "Maker! I froze. Then I pasted the biggest, dumbest smile on my face and babbled something like _oh, that's nice_ and ran away. Then I felt like such an idiot." 

"I'm sure he thought you were charming in your own gangly, adolescent way," I said. 

"Bullshit. I was the opposite of charming. I was an abject coward. Then I came out for dinner and he was still there and Idiot Danae took over again. I know I was making him uncomfortable because I kept staring at him when I thought he wasn't looking, then when he did try to talk to me, I took what he said wrong and acted like an absolute snot. So that made me panic and feel like I shouldn't say another word. I shovelled my food down as fast as I could and ran away again at the first opportunity. I was pathetic," she said with a rueful smile. 

"If it helps, he was rather preoccupied at the time because he was there hitting your parents up for money and feeling guilty about it." 

"Not really. For the next seven years, every time I thought about Kai, I felt like the biggest asshat in Thedas. You know he lived in Ostwick for two _years_ and I never got up the nerve to visit him?" 

"From what he's told me, you had your own concerns at the time. Some sort of ongoing battle about your educational future, I believe?" 

She grinned. "Oh yes. It was all very dramatic. As you see, I eventually got my way, but I felt bad about that. Never seeing him, I mean. But every time I thought about it, I thought what an idiot I'd acted like and couldn't bear the idea that he might think I'm just a cowardly little fool, so I'd tell myself I'd go see him once I'd got myself better established or, well, any excuse, really." 

I could have told her that the two of them were more alike than either guessed, but refrained from saying it. 

"Anyway, then he left Ostwick and I was in university anyway, so I didn't need to feel guilty for a while." She sat up again. "Wow, this is taking longer than I thought it would. I'm gonna make a drink. Do you want one?" 

"I've been told it's dreadfully unsociable to let your host drink alone," I said. 

She laughed. "Well, since I don't want you accused of being rude, I'll get you one." She mixed something involving vodka and fruit juice and handed me mine. 

"Anyway, there I was living guilt-free at uni, when news started to trickle in about some new organization down south called the Inquisition and all the things they were doing. At first I didn't really pay attention because the stuff they were supposedly fighting sounded scary, but it had nothing to do with my life or the Free Marches in general. Then the Inquisition kept getting bigger and more powerful, and we started hearing about this leader of theirs. I still didn't make any connection at first because all I ever heard was _the Herald of Andraste,_ you know?" 

"I know," I said with a chuckle. "And he despises that title. Always did." 

"Yeah, he told me that last year. I don't blame him. Anyway, one day a friend came up to me and said, _hey, look, the Herald of Andraste has the same last name as you,_ and handed me a circular where they'd actually thought to print his name for once. I couldn't believe it at first, but, well, Kai isn't that common a name and I was sure there were no other Trevelyans with that name, and the circular even said he was from Ostwick so it _had_ to be. Then I started paying attention and Maker, did we start hearing about him and all the stuff the Inquisition was doing. Well, you know." 

"Intimately," I waggled my eyebrows at her. 

She laughed. "Yeah, I should get to the point. I'm sure he's wondering where you are by now. The thing is, I suppose after he disbanded the Inquisition I really should have tried to see him, but if I thought I'd been nervous _before_ …well, now he was like this legendary super-mage world leader who helped kill a god and stopped wars and Maker only knows what else. So I chickened out again, told myself I was too busy and too far away and blah blah blah, and why would he care about seeing his dumb little sister when he was used  to doing things like outwitting the Orlesian Court, you know?" 

"I believe I get the proverbial picture," I said. 

"When he visited our parents last year — and I understand we have you to thank for that, so thank you — and they got me there too without telling us… Dorian, that's the first time in my life I got to really meet my brother. It's the first time ever that I got to _talk_ to him. And I think it went well. I mean, I _liked_ him. I have to admit I was a little surprised about that. I half expected he'd be stuck up or all stern and serious but he's not. I think he liked me too." 

"He did. He told me the night he got back from Ostwick." 

She brightened. "He did? Oh, good. I'm sorry this took forever to tell you, but that's the other reason I came here. I know I'm going to have to go do big, adult things very soon now, and I really don't resent it as much as I pretend to, but damn it, before I do all that, I want to do more than have one conversation with Kai. It's not fair what happened to our family, but there's nothing I can do about that. I don't think it’s a big deal that we didn't grow up together because he's so much older than me, but now that we're both grown up, I want to get to know my brother. I want us to be in each other's lives." 

She looked at me rebelliously, as if she expected me to object. I wasn't about to give her the pleasure. I raised my glass to her in a little salute. 

"I think that's wonderful, Danae. He's very much worth knowing, and though I'm terribly biased, that's not the only reason I'm saying it." 

Sorry, but this moment wasn't the time to pull out a clever quip. I was touched and impressed that she was determined to forge a relationship when it seemed like everything had conspired to keep one from existing between them. 

"Yeah, I kind of thought so too." She smiled. "I'm glad you come as part of the package." 

"You should be — I'm the one who can tell you all the embarrassing things he doesn't want you to know." 

She laughed. "I'll remember that. Anyway, I just wanted you to know. It didn't feel right, letting you think I was just looking for a free ride while I sort my stupid life out." 

"Thank you. Of course, if you sort your stupid life out in the meantime, that's all right too. You know, I guarantee he'd be delighted if you told him that last part about wanting a relationship with him." 

"I will. I just don't want him to feel pressured. I got the impression that he can fixate on something out of the blue and go off the deep end obsessing about it. Am I right?" 

I'm sure I looked astonished. "You are so right you're uncanny. You got that from a few hours' conversation?" 

She smiled crookedly. "Well, not just that. I recognized it because our father does the same thing." 

"I guarantee Kai is blissfully unaware of that." 

"I thought so. Anyway, I've kept you here babbling long enough." 

"Hardly babbling. I found every bit of it interesting." 

"You're not just saying that?" she said skeptically. 

"I promise. I also guarantee you that even though it will make him angry, Kai would very much like to hear what you told me about what it was like growing up with that hanging over you." 

"You think?" her brow furrowed. "But our parents must have talked to him about it by now." 

"None of them experienced it the way you did. Believe me. I know Kai. He'd want to hear it." 

"Okay," she said doubtfully, "but I think I'll wait a little before bringing it up, especially if it's going to upset him." 

"Not upset him; it's going to piss him off," I corrected with a smile. "But it will also make him feel utterly vindicated, which will please him no end." 

I finished my drink and set it down, hiding a yawn behind my hand. 

We stood and she pulled me into a quick, slightly awkward hug. "That's for being nice and listening to all that. And for making Kai happy. You'd better go now." 

"No one shall ever be the wiser about our little talk, upon pain of torture via bad footwear," I said dramatically. "Good night." 

I made a great show of sneaking out her door and left her laughing. 

I'd like to say that Kai was searching for me frantically, bereft at my long absence, but the truth was he'd gotten absorbed in messing with his little crossbows and hadn't even noticed how much time had passed. He does that at times. I like shooting the crossbows on occasion as well — they are undeniably fun — but to Kai they seem to be oddly cathartic. It seems the more lethal he can make them, the happier he is, which is unusual, because he really isn't a bloodthirsty man. 

Oh well, one side benefit to his little obsession is, he's one of the few mages I've ever heard of who's also a crack shot with a conventional weapon. That's already worked to our advantage. 

But I'm rambling now. I suppose I shall have to sneak back in and edit this for punch and brevity later. This is _stealthy_!Dorian signing off. 

Shall he return, you ask? 

Perhaps…if the world (or this manuscript) is in sufficient peril… 

**~~**


	40. Travel Plans

A fortnight had been more than enough for my sister and me to get comfortable around one another; now we were enjoying building an actual relationship. Dorian had been equally included in the process and seemed to be pleased. It was new to all of us, this family-as-friends idea. Dorian really was an only child, and Danae and I may as well have been for all that we had the same parents, so we were figuring it out as we went. 

After a few rounds of letters back and forth, Kaeso and I had settled on a date for the meeting he wanted, so we'd gone ahead and planned a small holiday to show Danae Minrathous. We were now figuring out the quickest way to get there. 

"You know, we really should set up a permanent eluvian to Minrathous," Dorian mused. 

"Tired of sailing?" I said. 

"That definitely plays into it, but it also strikes me as sensible, since I don't want to spend all our time in Minrathous. A few hours' ride as opposed to days on the water?" 

"You think our little network would accommodate one more end point?" 

"We'll never know if we aren't daring enough to try. What's the worst that could happen?" he said with a reckless grin. 

"We implode the entire network and it disgorges those spider things en masse into the house?" 

"That defeatist attitude will never get you anywhere." 

"Well, assuming that doesn't happen, I agree. The way things keep heating up with the Qunari, I'm not necessarily keen on all those sailing trips past Seheron." 

"Precisely. I've no wish to sample Qunari hospitality or be a cultural liaison." 

We were looking over ships' schedules, trying to decide whether to book a few cabins on a boat already going to Minrathous or simply charter another. 

"I'm all for the idea," I said. "But we would need to find another intact eluvian first." 

"Somebody somewhere must have one." 

"If you have some idea where to put a request in, go right ahead. Your being a Magister should be good for something other than getting us noticed by the Archon and invited to dreary political affairs." 

"Now you're just being hurtful. There have been some very entertaining soirees amongst those." 

"Two words: The Salvians." 

"Now _really,_ Kai, those two host the most epically dreadful parties in all of Tevinter. Are you truly sorry you've gotten to attend some of them?" 

I laughed. "All right, that was a bad example. I would never have believed the butterscotch-cheese fountain if I hadn't seen it." 

"If you're invited to the Salvians's disasters, you know you've arrived in Minrathous society. You know what? We have the money, let's just hire another blasted boat." 

"What are eluvians, and are these Salvians having any parties while we're in Minrathous?" Danae said by way of greeting as she sat at the table. 

"If they are, I'd have to oversee acquiring you a new wardrobe," Dorian said with a certain amount of glee. "In fact, we should do that anyway. There will undoubtedly be other affairs you'll be attending with us." 

She blinked at him. "A new wardrobe? Are you serious?" 

"You may as well let him," I said. "It might take some of the sting out of my being a constant disappointment in sartorial matters." 

"I keep telling him a little colour wouldn't kill him, but he refuses to budge," Dorian said, giving me an exaggeratedly dark look. 

"And I keep telling him black is all colours, it looks good, and I never have to worry about anything clashing," I replied loftily. "It's also dramatic." 

"Then in the interest of keeping the peace between the two of you, I accept your offer," she told Dorian. "Now what are eluvians?"

_=#=_

The ensuing discussion spawned a good half day’s research into the best way to go about adding a third eluvian to our little network, though it wouldn’t do us any good this trip. Even if we’d had a third eluvian, installing it was going to take far more time than we had, and would have to be done in Minrathous. (Danae did not join us in the research, preferring to return to her smithing while we carried on about magical stresses and vectors.)

We did end up hiring another boat. In some ways it still struck me as embarrassingly profligate, but it also got us to Minrathous more quickly, and the less time Dorian spent on the water, the happier he was, even with Mikal's seasickness potions. 

The one thing I felt marginally better about this time was leaving Swivet. He was still following me around acting suspicious, then bereft when he saw us packing, but at least he had Ferox to play with now.


	41. Interlude (6)

Once there had been power. Things unremembered had happened and at the nexus of it all, the very land itself had changed. That had been in the _ago_. Those that made things happen had departed and only the land was left. Its changed essence drew things to it. Magical things, some of them dire and dreadful in their own right, and most of them powerful, resided on the land. But in the absence the old power, the land was just land and the dark core slept dead and dreamless. Time was a meaningless noise. 

There was no power, then there was a trickle of power made from the same stuff that had changed the dark core of the land. 

_Greeting._


	42. Part 6: Minrathous

**_Minrathous_**

Minrathous in high summer was miserable, at least if you were mad enough to venture out during midday, so of course that's when we arrived. The wealthiest parts of the city were nice enough, but go outside of those and it became clear there were more people than the city could comfortably hold, every one of those people was hot and sweaty, and not all of them were deeply concerned about their city’s hygiene. 

Though the trap that came to pick us up was open, the air was still stifling. Danae's hair was stringy with sweat and even Dorian was looking a little damp and droopy around the edges despite cooling spells. I don't know that I've ever been more pleased with my choice to shave off my hair. 

We wasted no time getting indoors when we reached the house. As Dorian and I breathed sighs of relief, Danae looked at us with round-eyed shock. "It's _nice_ in here. How does it do that? It's magic, isn't it?" 

"Indeed it is," Dorian said with a grin and a little flourish. "There are spirits bound to the house whose job is to keep it cool in summer and warm in winter. The house in Qarinus has the same." 

She squinched her eyes at him. "Spirits? Like enslaved fade demons?" 

"Not demons, just simple spirits." I took over. "They're not enslaved, they're bound to this locale." 

"What's the difference?" she said with a dark look. 

"They're _very_ simple spirits," Dorian explained. "They really can only process one or two things at a time. If you give them one simple task, they're very happy to keep doing it. They're truly not bright enough to ever make the transition to demon." 

"How do you know that?" She still wasn't ready to accept there wasn't some form of evil Tevinter coercion going on. 

"Because it's one of those things they teach you when you're a mage," I said. "Not all spirits are the same, any more than all corporeal life forms are. All spirits have a tendency towards—what would you call it?—single-mindedness? That's why even the sophisticated spirits are a _thing_ , like desire or compassion or what have you. The sort of spirits being used here are much less complex. You call them, tell them _stay here and do this thing_ and they're perfectly happy. They like staying in one place doing one thing." 

"What would happen if you told them they could leave and stop doing the thing?" she asked. 

"Could or must? Because if you just told them they _could_ leave, many of them would give you the spiritual version of a bored shrug and keep right on doing what they're doing." 

"Okay, must, then." 

"Some probably would. Others would get confused, and a few may even get angry," Dorian said. "And before you ask, when that happens they can get obnoxious—throwing things, breaking things, hiding your keys. Simple-minded tantrums, you know?" 

"You see it happen down south at times—a simple spirit gets confused or someone disrupts its routine and they call it poltergeists or an angry ghost, but that's really all it is," I continued. "Sometimes they calm down on their own or forget what they were angry about. Other times they need someone to guide them back to the Fade." 

Danae glanced around the room as though she expected to see one of the spirits in question. "Why don't they ever tell anyone any of that?" 

"Chantry," I said flatly. 

"In Tevinter they do," Dorian added. "Household spirits are quite common." 

"As long as you have the money to pay someone to set you up with one or more," I said. "Assuming you're one of the vast majority who can't do it yourself." 

"Well, yes, of course," Dorian said in a tone that told me that hadn't occurred to him for a moment. 

"They're really at the house in Qarinus too?" 

"You didn't notice it's perfectly comfortable inside?" I asked. 

"Yes, I just put it down to some sort of clever architecture, I suppose," she said. "I didn't really think about it. _Here_ it's noticeable." 

"The sheer mass of people does impart a certain _texture_ to the air here," I agreed. 

Danae chewed on the inside of her lip as she fluffed her hair. "Maker, based on just what I've seen in the last few weeks, no wonder you Vints – um, sorry, Tevinters – call us backwards. But with all the things you can do with magic, why do you even _need_ slaves?" 

"They don't," I said. 

"Philosophy aside, I suspect it started because spirits are notoriously bad at heavy lifting," Dorian said lightly. "Even societies can develop bad habits that prove to be difficult to give up despite knowing you should." 

"Hm. Well, all I can say is I'm glad you two don't have slaves," she said, matching his tone. "It would be weird and creepy and I'd end up thinking less of you. So where am I sleeping?" 

=#= 

I had a few days before my meeting with Kaeso, and Dorian purposefully hadn't let anyone know he was going to be in Minrathous in order to avoid people who thought, as long as he was there, he may as well do magisterial things. We used the time—if I'm to be honest—to impress Danae with the wonders of Minrathous. 

Like most southerners, she'd never seen a city that operated with magic as an integral part of its fabric, so we took her to the venues and areas that best demonstrated the positive aspects of it. 

My favourite has always been the concerts—magic can enhance music in ways that simple acoustics can never hope to—but there were many other things. Dorian had told me long ago of streets in Minrathous where you can walk and see nothing built in the modern age, but he neglected to mention that magic had restored and preserved the buildings so it really is like stepping into the past.  There are parks where you can walk along the waterfront on paths lit by soft, coloured witchlight at any time of the night, pubs and nightclubs with entertainments both ridiculous and sublime, complex illusions you can walk through and interact with, and even the signs in the city are often magically lit and animated. There's really no way to properly describe it to someone who's never seen what magic can do in a casual, everyday sense. All anyone in the south seems to think of is combat, control and abominations, and that's a damned shame. 

There was a side effect to trying to impress Danae—we saw more of Minrathous and its outlying areas than I'd ever experienced. When I'd been travelling back and forth on outrider jobs, I'd been concerned with just two things: business and seeing as much of Dorian as I could before heading back. Once I'd moved in, Dorian had been busy much of the time, and we tended to go to the same handful of places out of habit. Now we were searching out novel and interesting spots, many of which even Dorian had never been to or hadn't seen in years, and he enjoyed it every bit as much as Danae and I did. 

Though he was trying to avoid work-related things, Dorian did spend some time one evening meeting with Marius, one of his most dependable lieutenants in the Lucerni, leaving Danae and me alone together. We got drinks and went out to the balcony overlooking the gardens we often frequented. 

I triggered a few of the permanent lights as I dropped into a chair, putting my feet up on one of the empty ones, and looked curiously at my little sister. 

"So what do you think?" 

"About what? That's an awfully big question," she said with a faint smile. 

"Anything you care to mention. We haven't really talked to each other alone much." 

"Well, my first thought is this is a lot to take in. I thought I was reasonably sophisticated after living in Antiva City, but this is a whole new level of…whatever it all is," she waved her hand in a vaguely all-encompassing gesture. "I'm still getting used to you and Dorian." 

"Getting used to us? In what way?" 

I must have looked worried, because she laughed. "Not anything bad, Kai. It's just…I always _knew_ you were a mage, obviously—remind me there's something I need to tell you about that from when I was little—but it's one thing to know it, and quite another to see what that really means." 

"Are we making you uncomfortable?" I asked. 

"Not exactly. It's just — I didn't realize how different and not-different it makes you." 

"Right, I'm officially confused now." 

She took a healthy slug of her drink and drummed her fingers on the table. "Andraste's arse, how do I explain this? First off, no one actually tells you shite about mages at home, you know that. It's all about how dangerous you are or that endless bloody chant about _magic is here to serve man_. So all anyone pictures is some unbalanced twat in robes with a staff flinging fireballs at people, until they go mad or slit someone's throat and turn into a monster." 

I snort-laughed and gave her an ironic toast. "A remarkably succinct description." 

"And completely useless. I had no idea how much you guys use magic every day, and how much of it is just amazingly convenient. I'd _love_ to be able to make a light whenever I need one or pick up something I dropped just by thinking about it. I've been watching you two, and I don't think even _you_ realize how much you do magic." 

"Probably not," I agreed. "I got a nasty reminder of that last year. I'll tell you about it sometime if you want, but now's not the time. I take it that's the _different_ part?" 

"Correct. Can you get us another drink?" 

I cast the spell to call a servant, made our requests and turned my attention back to Danae. "So what's the not-different part?" 

She grinned. "Well, despite all the little magicky things you're always doing, you don't _act_ all weird and magicky. That's the other part they never mention. I was a little worried at first, but you just act like people, and that's a tremendous relief." 

"Thank you, I think. Did I not act like people last year?" 

"Of course you did, but we were both on our best behaviour then. Now I'm getting to see you for real, and vice versa." 

"So can I ask _you_ something?" I nodded thanks as the servant set new drinks on the table. 

"Sure, though I can't imagine there's anything interesting about me." 

"Do you still not want to say what the other reason is that you left Antiva?" 

"Oh, that." She grimaced. "I guess I can tell you now. I just didn't want to lay stupid shite on you when I was trying to move in unannounced. I had a boyfriend. We hadn't even gone out that long, but it was one of those things where he seemed normal and kind of fun at first, but then he ran out of things to be normal and fun about and started being himself." 

"And himself was?" 

"Possessive and shrill and clingy. Didn't want me going out with anyone else, started making plans for how long after the wedding we'd have the first child, then started getting weird about me even _talking_ to anyone else, wanted to know where I was all the time…I'm sure you've heard this sort of thing before if not experienced it." 

"The former, yes. I've never been on the receiving end. My love life before Dorian—what there was of it—was remarkably free of passionate feelings of any sort," I said with a slight smile. 

"In some ways you're lucky. You're _very_ lucky that Dorian turned out to be sane. As soon as I saw where Enzo was heading, I broke it off. I've seen too many friends stay in fucked-up relationships way past when they should." 

I nodded, having seen that myself. "Let me guess— _Enzo_ decided it wasn't over." 

She made a disgusted noise. "Right. He just got shriller and clingier, started following me everywhere, pestered my friends when he couldn't find me…it was horrible. Since I was done with my apprenticeship anyway, I decided to get the fuck out of town and go someplace he wouldn't find me. Hopefully he'll fixate on someone else and she'll flatten him when he does." 

"The truth comes out," I said mournfully. "We were just a hideout for you. I feel so _used._ " 

_"Kai!"_ she yelped. "That's not true! That's why I didn't tell you!" 

I smirked. "Just kidding, Danae. I'm glad you came here. If the wanker does manage to find you, _we'll_ flatten him. And I guarantee he'll stay flat." 

She laughed. "It's probably a good thing you weren't around when I was a kid. Do you know how insufferable I might have been if I knew I had a big brother on call who could literally make my enemies' heads explode?" 

"I don't think I've actually exploded anyone's head," I mused. "Well, maybe once or twice, but not without a very good reason." 

"Do I want to know?" 

"…Probably not."


	43. Kaeso's Request

Since I didn't know how long my meeting with Kaeso was going to be, Dorian deemed that day perfect to take Danae out wardrobe-shopping. He looked positively gleeful and she seemed cautiously amused as they walked out the door to their waiting coach. I had no doubt they'd have a lovely time. 

Kaeso's instructions to the locale for our meeting led me to a part of the city I'd never been (Maker forbid he suggest something normal like a restaurant). It was an area of venerable old estates that had seen better times. Everything was behind walls, and every estate was sizeable, but many of them were looking run down and overgrown. 

I entered through an unlocked gate at the back of the designated address and found myself in an elaborate garden that had been allowed to run wild. There were high, broad-leafed plants looming over bushes bearing colourful tropical flowers in fanciful shapes I'd never seen before, other beds of flowers I recognized from the gardens in Qarinus, wisteria I recognized from my own parents' estate, hedges that may once have been cunningly sculpted but were now just shaggy, and a riot of other plants I really don't have the vocabulary to describe. I was never a devotee of horticulture. 

I followed the centre path to a wall of green marble with a single doorway spelled to look like it was made of woven vines. It opened as I approached, and closed itself behind me. This new section of garden was crisscrossed with pathways weaving past surreal sculptures. Lush green vines dotted with small flowers of blue and yellow, violet and purple-black, twined around and through the sculptures. They reminded me of ancient elven creations, though filtered through the mind of someone more modern who was possibly acquainted with some very interesting drugs. When the wind blew, it not only rustled the plants—the movement of the plants set up a sort of magical harmonic that made the sculptures seem to subtly move and twine in place along with them. The effect was simultaneously beautiful and unsettling. 

The pathways all eventually herded one into a six-sided courtyard circled with white benches, and more sculptures that moved and flowed in a way that managed to feel oddly threatening. At the end of the last path, I saw nothing but a blank, ivy-covered wall. 

After sparing a thought for the obvious skill of the architect, my primary feeling about the place was, _what an ideal spot for an ambush_. I readied myself accordingly and was unsurprised when an arrow came flying at me. I let the arrow bounce off my barrier spell and said, " _Really,_ Kaeso? This is how you ask for a favour?" 

He stepped onto the path, grinning. He was slightly taller than me, skin a few shades darker than Dorian’s. He was slim but smoothly muscled, and moved with a graceful athleticism. His features were even and appealing, with close-cropped black hair and beard, high cheekbones, and icy grey eyes that slanted up slightly at the outer corners. His smile was open and charming. 

As I mentioned before, he was also a sadistic sociopath whose charm was all surface. Despite knowing that, I liked him.

He said, "Come now, Kai, if I didn't try to kill you, how could you be sure it was me?" 

I shook my head dolefully. "I don't know…I think you're slipping. I absolutely expected that attempt. The spot you picked couldn't have had _ambush_ written more clearly across it if you'd put up a sign." 

"That's because I was being friendly." 

"Is that what you call it." I whipped my mini-crossbow out from behind my back and fired, using a touch of a force spell to ensure the bolt hit precisely where I wanted. 

Kaeso dodged, but not quickly enough. The bolt passed through his shirt and pinned it to the wall. For a moment he stared at me with pure rage, then just as quickly burst into laughter. "You sly bastard, you used a _weapon_ on me!" 

I half-smiled at him. "I have _depths_ , Kaeso." 

He pulled the bolt out of the wall, a fussy little frown on his face. "You pierced my shirt. I'll have you know this was a very expensive shirt." 

"Did you personally buy the shirt?" 

"Irrelevant." He lifted his shirt to examine himself and looked at me accusingly. "You gave me a _welt_!" 

"That's because I was being friendly." 

He acknowledged that with a shallow bow and handed my bolt back to me. 

“Now that we’ve dispensed with the formalities, shall we go in?" 

I gestured a magnanimous _go ahead_.

He walked up to the blank wall, reached behind the ivy and pushed something or things in a pattern. The section of wall slid back, revealing a narrow passageway. 

I followed him in, waited for him to pull a lever that closed the wall and proceeded down the corridor. Holes cut high up near the ceiling let in light. 

"Not my house, of course," Kaeso said, "but the owner isn't using it at the moment." 

I never knew whether to believe Kaeso, so I didn't worry about it. 

He stopped to pull another lever, and we entered a tastefully decorated gentleman's room—the sort of place you'd go to drink fine liquor and play cards once dinner was done. The air was flat and slightly stuffy and everything had an air of disuse about it. 

As I sat, I decided it was probably true that we were breaking and entering. I wondered if it was one of his relatives' houses. 

"I'm afraid we'll have to rough it; the help is all out today. As the liquor is accessible, I didn't feel that was of great concern." 

"Not quite as posh as the estate where we first met," I said. 

"Sadly, no. But the _location_ is grand and you have to admit the gardens are something to behold." He opened the liquor cabinet and sniffed. "Look at this. Not even _domestic_ brandy; this was made in _Ferelden_ , can you imagine? Honestly. I shall have to switch to something else. I refuse to sully my palate with that. I suppose you still retain your pedestrian fondness for beer?" 

"Guilty as charged," I said. 

"How Dorian must despair of you at times. Hm. Well at least this is from Tevinter." 

He emerged with a bottle of something vaguely purple in one hand, a beer in the other, which he tossed to me. "In the spirit of roughing it, I believe I'll drink straight out of the bottle." 

"You're positively barbaric, Kaeso." I chilled my beer and uncorked it. 

"I certainly can be at times." He gave me one of those cold looks he occasionally allows through; the ones to remind you just what he really is. In another instant it was gone. "Now that we've refreshments, I suppose you'll want to know why I've asked you here." 

"You're practically prescient." 

He grinned. "I know. Frightening, isn't it. Nice alliteration, that. Incidentally, what do you and Dorian use for lubrication when you're fucking?" 

"Your mother." 

He laughed. "Now that _is_ off-putting. Touché." 

"I thought you'd approve. Now talk, Kaeso." I drank beer and fixed him with a stern look. 

He made a moue. "But I do so like our little preambles. Very well. Much as it vexes me to admit such a thing, I need your help, Kai. I've a _situation_ I'm unable to extricate myself from." 

"I find that difficult to fathom. What in the world could _you_ not extricate yourself from?" 

He sat forward, elbows resting on his knees, and for once looked completely serious. Huffing out a breath, he said, "I made a commitment to some people—some very _dangerous_ people, and if I'm saying they're dangerous, you know they are—to retrieve something for them. The compensation they were offering for this service was…impressive. Attractive enough that I made an amateurish mistake, and didn't sufficiently look into what it entailed before committing to it. They were most generous concerning time and budget as well as payment, you see, and they specifically wanted _me_ to do the job." 

I squinted at him. "And the problem is?" 

"The retrieval requires at least one mage, possibly two, to accomplish. I am brilliant, but as we've established, I am most emphatically not a mage. These people do not care about such technicalities. As far as they're concerned, I signed the contract, I get the job done. The consequences of not getting the job done are dire enough that _I_ don't like to think about them. So I need mages. Tough, _powerful_ mages that aren't going to wilt the first moment something gets challenging or dead." 

"Ah," I said, "I note you have repeatedly said mag _es_." 

"Plural would raise the likelihood of everyone's survival." 

"Am I to assume that I'm supposed to float this idea to Dorian as well?" 

"It would sound so much more _attractive_ coming from you." 

"Why not Maevaris while I'm at it?" 

"Kai. I need a team, not an entourage. Three people is unwieldy enough." He pouted. 

"And where is this thing? Not that I'm agreeing to anything." 

"It's in Madauros; do you know it?" 

"I've seen it on a map. It's in the mountains?" 

"Well, the foothills at any rate. We can go into more detail if you agree, but to get to where we'd need to go, we need to get into the centre of the city." 

"So?" 

"The centre of the city is off-limits to anyone but government officials, diplomats, that sort of rubbish. Apparently there was an attempted coup about three hundred years ago and they got a tiny bit paranoid. They're an insular lot from everything I've heard; don't think too highly of lowlanders." 

"So you figure we could also get you into the centre of the city." 

"Well, yes. I know what the Archon has put you up to. It's child's play to get Madauros moved up his to-do list for you." 

"You've got this all figured out, don't you," I said sourly. 

"To the best of my abilities. I try to underthink only one thing in any given year." He gave me a charmingly self-deprecating smile. 

"Well, then tell me one more thing: What do Dorian and I get out of this? You're literally asking us to put our lives on the line because _you_ fucked up and bit off more than you can chew." 

"I suppose my undying gratitude wouldn't be sufficient?" 

"Kaeso, you don't _feel_ gratitude." 

"You do remember the most annoying things." He frowned, drumming his fingers on the side of his bottle, then smiled, good humour abruptly restored. 

"How about this: I'll throw it back to you. What do you want of me? I'll give you carte blanche, though I won't cause myself physical, mental or financial harm." 

"Are you serious?" 

"I have not made one prurient inquiry of you. Nor have I said anything witty. That alone should tell you I'm serious. I mislike being this straightforward, but I know you're fond of it." 

"You did make one prurient inquiry," I pointed out. 

"Oh, please, that one hardly counts. Your answer was worse than my question." 

"I'll have to talk this over with Dorian, you know." 

He rolled his eyes. "Obviously. I _am_ hoping to recruit him too, and I'm most aware that a unilateral decision would not go over well. I came to _you_ because we understand each other." 

I wasn't sure that was a good thing, but to a degree it was true. "So you want the three of us to go to this Mad-whatsit—" 

"Madauros." 

"Yeah, that. Get into the centre of their city under the aegis of the Archon, and while pretending to be on a diplomatic mission, retrieve this thing that is well secured enough to require your talents and that of _two_ magister-level mages, _and_ get back out with it." 

"See? You're quick. I like that about you, Kai. I only have to explain things once. I'll even clarify—I don't _know_ how powerful the mages need to be, but in my estimation, the more power the better. What prompted me to want the two of you aside from the obvious fact that I know you is—hm, how to put this—there are indications there _may_ be a tiny bit of combat with things that are a little scarier than your average palace guard. I need people who can see such things coming at them and turn them into paste, not shriek in terror and crumple into a sobbing heap. Given your history, I know you and Dorian can do that." 

"So on top of everything I just listed, you want us to fight monsters," I said. "You do know the price is going up every time you add another tiny detail like that." 

"Charge as much as you like. You don't need the money, and I can afford it," he said with an easy grin. 

"I never said the price was going to involve money." I smiled back, showing teeth. 

"Ooooh! Debauchery, then? You want me to be the meat in your three-way sandwich?" 

"You should be so lucky." I took a slow drink of my beer, draining about half of it. "But I think not. You said carte blanche, so that may include favours to be collected at a later date. We'd have to think deeply about the price. How soon do your clients want this done?" 

"They understand what they're asking is complex. In fact, I'm sure they expect me to get killed. I intend to surprise them." 

"And if they insult you will you keep their prize too?" He'd done that to a group of powerful Nevarrans a year ago. 

"No, I shall hand it over to them with an icily perfect smile and plot revenge at my leisure. That should tell you how dangerous they are." 

"So what is this thing that they want so badly?" 

He shook his head, "Uh-uh. Not until you say yes." 

"You don't know, do you?" 

"I shan't tell you and you can't make me. I paid a great deal of money to be protected against coercion spells." 

I finished my beer and he handed me another with a perfect flourish. I chilled it and sighed. "Dorian will no doubt call me mad, but give me a couple of days, then we'll meet again." 

Kaeso grinned and raised his bottle in a salute. "Done. I'll even let _you_ pick the place next time." 

=#= 

"You're mad," Dorian stated. At least this time he wasn't yelling. "Honestly, Kai, what is this fascinating hold that Kaeso Asina has over you?" 

"He doesn't have a hold over me," I objected. "Let's just talk about it, okay?" 

When I'd gotten back home I'd only said the meeting went fine and told Dorian I'd give him the details later. I didn't want Danae getting drawn into anything involving Kaeso, and from what I'd learned of her in the short time I'd known her, she'd find his proposal exciting. 

It wasn't that I didn't trust my sister; it was I didn't trust Kaeso as far as I could spit. I like him, but deep down he's an emotionless bastard who enjoys fucking with people and I was afraid my little sister would be too great a temptation for him to resist. 

I'd spent the rest of the evening watching the two of them show off Danae's new wardrobe (Dorian had managed to find a few things for himself as well) and playing a board game Danae had discovered stuffed in the back closet of her bedroom. It involved buying and selling swaths of well-known Tevinter real estate and I couldn't ever decide if I was enjoying it. 

I waited until Danae had retired and we were in our bedroom to bring up Kaeso's request, giving him a quick rundown while he started dismantling the day’s ensemble. I was sitting on top of the covers (sorry, still wearing my trousers and a sleeveless undershirt), pillows cushioning the headboard as I leaned back against it. 

Dorian stopped in the middle of unlacing his boots. 

"Amatus, if we are going to talk about this, I want a drink. Should we take this into the study?" 

"No, bring the drinks in here. I don't want Danae hearing this. She'd probably find it exciting." 

He nodded, understanding my concern, and shortly a servant delivered wine for himself and beer for me. He pulled off his boots, set his wine on the nightstand and stretched out sideways on the bed, propping his head on his hand. 

I had taken off my arm, mindful of Ademar's admonishments that not doing so once in a while could have dire consequences, and was rubbing the stump, which did seem a little irritated. "I've really got to force myself to do this more often," I said. "It's probably a good thing they haven't got the senses perfected; I'd never take it off." 

"You have been pushing it. I must say I found it slightly jarring this time. It's easy to forget you ever lost the arm," Dorian agreed. "So details—what is it I'm supposed to find appealing about joining Kaeso in a _heist_?" 

I grinned. "You mean aside from the fact that you'll forever after be able to reminisce about the _heist_ you pulled in Madauros?" 

"You do know how to pique my interest, but yes, aside from that. And how does he know about our arrangement with the Archon?" 

I shrugged. "Ask him. I'm sure he'll make up something interesting. Besides, that’s one of the things that make him valuable to the Lucerni. He knows how to find out things he has no business knowing.”

“True. I’d just like to know how he does it.” 

I made an agreeable noise as I drank. “Have you ever been to Madauros?" 

"Never. It's that uninteresting. All I really know is it's a mountain city that the Tevinter government has always seemed oddly protective of. It's south of the Hundred Pillars and the closest real city is Perivantium, which I _have_ been to." 

"How close?" 

"Not," he said direly. "If you thought Castra Nicia was in the middle of nowhere…" 

"Okay, so it's an insular city full of mountain people in the middle of nowhere. And we just have to get around everyone and everything to get some item that sounds like it's guarded to a fare-thee-well _and_ we'll be accompanied by Kaeso. Piece of cake." 

"Only if you're talking about the sort of cake my Aunt Selena made. It was moist, but in a weirdly _dense_ way and contained unidentifiable bits that did not look like they belonged anywhere _near_ a cake. Once she'd made it, she soaked it in whatever alcohol she had nearby for an hour, so of course everyone tried to choke down a piece, then lived to regret it." 

"It soaked for an hour and didn't disintegrate?" 

"As I said, _weirdly dense_. I looked too closely at a slice once and could swear I saw things moving in it. But you're missing the point—why should we do this? It sounds dangerous and unpleasant." 

"Well…for Kaeso, he did ask nicely. And he'll owe us even after he pays us. We'd also be turning the Archon's mission into something more." 

Dorian sat up and sipped his wine. "I think you're slipping, amatus. I'm not convinced. I've been to enough mountains since our grand adventure with the Inquisition that I can say without hesitation I don't like them." 

"You're going to make me work for this, aren't you?" 

He gave me a diabolical smile. "Oh, yes." 

"We can't just skip to the part where I get my way?" 

"Certainly not. This could even be one of those rare occasions where you _don't_ get your way." 

"Now that's just cruel." 

He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "So convince me." 

"It could be fun. We could discover something interesting. We can pervert the Archon's little game and turn it into something that might benefit us. You already know Kaeso's an asset, but if we do this he'll be an indebted asset. Maybe we'll find something new magically speaking; after all, we have no idea what this item is he's supposed to fetch except that the fetching requires mages be involved." I stopped to take a drink and line up the next round of arguments. 

"Interesting," he said, making a show of examining his fingernails, "but I'm not convinced. There will be self-important bumpkins. There will be dust and climbing and quite probably mud and insects. This item could be a sculpture of Andraste's cat being guarded by an aged Mabari hound, and they've been relying on legend for years to keep people away." 

"Well, then it'll be an easy trip, we'll score points with the Archon and we can snicker at Kaeso whilst reminding him no matter what, he still owes us." 

"Hmm…you're making progress." He sipped more wine. "Keep going." 

"We'll be pulling a _caper_. It will require wit, finesse and planning coupled with lightning-quick decisions and novel applications of magic. We shall be clever, charming, resourceful and deadly. If the item is as well guarded as Kaeso says, our successful heist will be legendary, though only the three of us will know who managed to do the impossible. We may well find other, fascinating souvenirs in the course of the caper. We'll be living something most people only _wish_ they could do, if only they had the wit, grace and yes, I'll say it, the _balls_ to actually pull it off. How could you possibly pass up a chance at that kind of bad-assery and still look at yourself in the mirror the same way every morning, _knowing_ what you could have done, could have _been_?" 

As I drank, Dorian applauded. "Such passion! And all for a chance to do something that sounds suicidally dangerous. As I've said before, _festis bei umo canavarum_." 

"I will not be the death of you and why must you always say that in Tevene?" 

"Because it sounds far more dramatic, of course." He set his wine on his nightstand and stretched back out on the bed. "You realize there may be politics and formal dinners." 

"I can tolerate them. Besides, this is a place in Tevinter even you haven't been." I wasn't sure why I wanted to go so badly, but I did. 

He smiled at me with a sort of resigned amusement. "All right, if you want to that badly, I suppose I could hazard it in hopes that we shall be showered in glory as you describe." 

"So you'll do it?" 

"It does give us some forewarning where we'll be sent. I insist on being at this second meeting with Kaeso, though." 

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I said. 

"If he doesn't give us proper information or tries to play games, I reserve the right to veto." 

"I encourage it. If he's telling us the truth, he could arrange for our next trip to be there regardless, but rather than the caper we'd just do whatever diplomatic bollocks the Archon wants and run back home. What about a geas? We could put him under one." 

"Kaeso? I wouldn't recommend it," Dorian said with a slight frown. "He'd never willingly accept one, I don't think, and forcing them never works well. Remember, you're still under one to Mythal." 

"Thanks for reminding me." I said with a groan. "Right. No geas. I'd be lying if I didn't say I've a slight concern that given the right circumstances, Kaeso would slit our throats and carry on with his task without a second thought." 

"As long as we're both aware of that, I don't imagine it will be a problem," Dorian said lazily. "I expect the worst part will be the trip there." 

"At least there's no sailing involved." 

We talked about other things for a time before agreeing we should probably get some sleep. 

We'd put the lights out and I was hovering on the edge of sleep when Dorian said, "Kai…if I hadn't said yes, what were you going to do? I know how much you hate losing." 

I chuckled. "I was going to offer to bottom for you for a fortnight without once complaining it was time to switch." 

"Ah." He was quiet for so long I thought he'd fallen asleep when he softly added, "Damn." 


	44. Dancing With the Big Boys

Our next meeting with Kaeso was at a place of my choosing. Since he kept opting for out-of-the-way estates of the wealthy, I went for the opposite, telling him to meet us at A Certain Place. I think I partly chose it because I knew the name would annoy him. 

A Certain Place is a large, well-kept inn with a large, well-kept pub in a district of Minrathous that straddles the line between working class and seedy. I know it because it's the area of town mercenaries, outriders and other weapons-for-hire types congregate between jobs. I spent about a year as an outrider, doing the run between Hasmal and Minrathous regularly. That particular occupation started as a mechanism to see Dorian, but I grew to enjoy it. I wouldn't want to do it for a living, but I have to admit the idea of an occasional run for old times' sake holds a degree of attraction for me. 

I also picked A Certain Place because they have a few private back rooms in their pub. One of them has been permanently usurped by an endless game of Wicked Grace and is the unofficial office of one of the best information brokers in Minrathous, but there were others, and I paid for a few hours in one. Dorian and I arrived well before Kaeso was due, had something to eat and were waiting with drinks already on the table when he arrived. 

He glided into the room dressed in a get-up that involved a bewildering amount of fringe and— 

**~~**

Oh, for pity's sake (as Kai is fond of saying). I'm sorry to cut in, but when it comes to describing clothing my amatus is sadly lacking in inspiration. He honestly thinks describing a diaphanous gown cut in the manner of the late Blessed Age, but with a modern, quasi-Orlesian by way of the Dalish twist as _green and floaty_ is sufficient. 

_It_ was _green and floaty and I was describing the gown in question to Sera, who would likely put an arrow into anything quasi-Orlesian._

Hush, you. 

Kaeso, as is his wont, was wearing yet another Antivan getup, and an out-of-date one at that. Or perhaps he was being ironic, hearkening back to one sultry summer in Antiva City when fringe became all the rage. A wave of madness swept Antiva, with the rich and unoccupied competing to see how _much_ of their ensemble could consist of fringe. It reached its climax at the end of summer with designers constructing outfits that were little but strategically arranged strings with variable lengths and densities of fringe hanging off them. Then it all came crashing down. A rash of fringe-related accidents occurred, the most tragic involving some very long fringe and a fast moving cart.

_That is so incredibly stupid I believe it._

All true, amatus. Now kindly let me finish. 

Kaeso's ensemble wasn't one of the end-of-summer varieties, but a mid-summer oddity. The base was a play on chain mail—a shirt and trousers made entirely of thin, rounded links of silver chain imbued with a subtle red tint. Hanging off the links was fringe in a shifting pattern of red, gold and black that also shifted and moved as he moved. I seem to recall the designer said she'd based the look on certain poisonous snakes, in which case it was an appropriate choice for Kaeso. 

_Well, he did not look like a snake. It just looked rather silly. May I continue?_

Go right ahead. 

**~~**

He sat down with a leathery rustle. "I see you started without me. I’d be hurt if I wouldn’t have done the same. Have you reached a decision?" 

"Perhaps. We have questions," I said. 

He gave a put-upon sigh. "Of course you do. That's the problem with attempting to recruit clever people. Always _questions_." 

"How do you intend to insinuate yourself in with us?" Dorian asked. 

Kaeso smiled. "Among my many talents, I am a stunningly efficient secretary-slash-assistant. It would be remarkable if two such important personages as yourselves did not employ someone such as myself." 

"More to the point: What is this object you're after and _where_ is it? Some treasure vault in a citadel sub-basement?" I said. 

Kaeso sipped his drink, looking uncommonly thoughtful. "I don't truly know what it is. I have a description, that's all. Size, appearance, approximate weight, distinguishing marks; didn't recognize it as something I may have seen before. I'm assuming it's magical in some way because this _is_ Tevinter, but no one's come out and said it's the first Black Divine's favourite thunder mug or anything." 

"And the where?" I persisted. 

"Somewhere under the centre of the city." 

"Under it," Dorian said flatly, "How _far_ under it? Deep Roads under it? Because I assure you, we've both had enough of the Deep Roads to last a lifetime." 

Kaeso looked honestly frustrated. "I don't know. That appears to be up to me to discover. I'm telling you what I was told. It's under, and you must reach it through a particular passageway in the centre of the city." 

"Kaeso, you lied to me again," I said. 

He gave me a look of wide-eyed innocence. "I didn't." 

"Oh, come on. You're not that naïve. Why in the world would you accept a job that has you working with little to no information even though it's clearly both difficult and dangerous? You've said yourself repeatedly that you don't need the money." 

He steepled his fingers in front of him, elbows resting on the table. "I know it sounds out of character. You recall I said my employers are very dangerous?" 

"Go on," Dorian said. 

"Well. It may be that I…annoyed them some time ago. I took some things that they considered theirs. I also may have killed a few of their people, and these were people a few key members were quite fond of." 

"You pissed off someone scarier than you," I clarified. 

"Must you put it so crassly?" 

"I'm southern. I'm allowed," I said with a half-smile. 

"Who exactly are these people?" Dorian asked. 

"Is that _truly_ important?" 

"In the grand scheme of things, probably not," Dorian said. "However, in our small corner of the world, yes. You see, your bad behaviour might get them _pissed off_ at us, were we to do as you're asking." 

"Pfft. You're a Magister. What would you have to worry about?" Kaeso scoffed. 

"My father was a Magister too." 

"Oh yes, he did get himself assassinated, didn't he." 

"Indeed," Dorian said flatly. 

Kaeso didn't seem aware he was treading on thin ice at the moment. 

"Tell us who, Kaeso, or no deal," I said. 

"But they'd know you were sub-contracted. The onus is on me." 

"Some people believe in guilt by association. If you don't want to tell us, we'll just go join the card game and consider it over and done with." 

"It's like you don't trust me," he sulked. 

"We don't," Dorian said. 

Kaeso slouched back in his seat with a colourful rustle of fringe. "Oh, all right. It won't mean anything to Kai anyway. I _may_ have annoyed a few of the top people in the Sacer Saeculum." 

"Well, you certainly aim high," Dorian said. 

I puzzled the words out in my mind. "Doesn't that mean something like the sacred secularity?" 

"Very good, amatus. That is correct," Dorian said. 

"So we're talking about a dangerous organization filled with very scary people that also has a sense of humour?" 

"Essentially, yes, though they're not an organization in the way one normally thinks. They're more a collection of very scary people who occasionally work together to further specific goals. Mostly Magisters, as you might imagine, but a few other rich and powerful people as well. So while they do possess a sense of humour, don't make the mistake of thinking they're less dangerous than the organized groups of thugs everyone's more familiar with." 

"And you stole something of theirs _and_ killed two of their people?" I said to Kaeso. 

"To be fair, I was not aware they considered the object theirs. And the two I killed were trying to kill me back at the time." 

"The price just went up," I told him. 

"I also demand there be something in writing swearing that our only involvement in any of this was a contract to aid you in the retrieval of their object, to be held by a third party of our choice," Dorian said. 

"Oh, just say Maevaris Tilani," Kaeso said. "We all know that's who you're talking about. Does this mean you'll do it?" 

"You'll need to guarantee payment in full whether we're successful or not. We'll need at least some monetary compensation or it just doesn't _feel_ right," I echoed his own words from a year ago back at him. "But rest assured, you're going to owe us a sight more than that." 

"I agree. Your terms," he said with such alacrity I felt sure there were additional things he wasn't telling us. 

"We get someone else to draw up the contract," Dorian said. "And if you try to disappear or squirm your way out of it, the Sacer Saeculum will be the least of your worries." 

"Yes, yes, I know you can both turn me into a watery stain on the floor and you have friends and lackeys all over Thedas," Kaeso said impatiently. "I will do whatever you wish. Unlike me, the two of you have morals and ethics and senses of fair play, so as long as I behave you'll actually ensure my payment is neither cruel nor unacceptable. If I break our agreement you'll both turn spiteful and mean-spirited." 

"I think he's got it." Dorian grinned at me. 

"Well done, Kaeso. There may be hope for you yet," I said. 

"Just try not to take too long with all your precious paperwork. I've still got to fix things with the Archon's to-do list," Kaeso said. 

I made a mental note to insist one small item in his payment be that he tell us how he did that.


	45. Interlude (7)

_How long had she been here?_ Useless thought. Long enough. _Focus_ was important. Focus and calm and training. Pacing the cell was no substitute for walking, but the combat exercises were keeping her hard and fit and, more importantly, prepared. 

You only get one chance, so make it count. If it is a dwarf, hit _so_. Human or elf, hit _there_ and _thus._ No need to see clearly; all she would need is a glimpse of the shape of her target. Now start over. In the unlikely event that it is a Qunari, _this_ must be done quickly…


	46. Part 7: Qarinus

**_Home Sweet Home_**

We returned to Qarinus to await the Archon’s summons. 

Not that that's all we were doing. We had projects to work on, a kitten to raise, my sister to entertain and a dozen other things that demanded our attention. I hasten to add that life wasn't necessarily a rainbow-tinted whirl of delight every moment of the day that only got affected by evil outsiders. It was life, and sometimes it got messy. Literally messy. 

Within a few days of returning from Minrathous, I was a little shocked when Lucien approached me. He looked distressed — lips pressed together in a thin line, hands clasped like he was restraining himself from wringing them — and for once the look wasn't aimed at me. 

"Dominus Kai, may we speak?" he said with soft urgency. I said of course and he pulled me into a parlour I'd never seen anyone set foot in. 

"What's the matter, Lucien?" I was beyond curious what could possibly make him thaw towards me. 

"Well, I hesitate to say this but…it's your sister." He stopped just short of wringing his hands again. 

"Danae? What about her? What's she done?" 

He sucked in his cheeks. "Does. It's what she does. The household staff does, of course, recognize that this is your home, and your guests are to be treated with the utmost respect, but Dominus, the girl leaves trails of detritus and destruction behind her wherever she goes. I wouldn't say anything, but this house contains many fine examples of art and precious pieces from many important ages of Tevinter history and I fear it is only a matter of time until one of her carelessly thrown circulars or articles of clothing or leftover _snacks_ is going to do irreparable harm to something fine and irreplaceable. I have no wish to offend, but if you could perhaps talk to her?" 

I managed to keep my amusement from showing. "So you're telling me my sister is a slob?" 

"It could be that she developed some unrefined habits in Antiva," he hedged diplomatically. "As I said, I don't mean to offend, but—" 

I smiled. "Don't worry, Lucien, I'm not offended. I simply had no idea. I'll talk to her." 

He thanked me with a fervour that left me feeling somewhat overwhelmed. I felt I was finally beginning to understand the man—he may have been fond of Dorian, but it was the house he truly loved. Looking at it that way, it was no wonder he hadn't taken a shine to me. I was an unknown quantity who might damage the place, and to make matters worse, I'd brought an even more suspect pet nug with me who was going to live _inside_ his precious house. I was going to have to ask Dorian if he'd always been like that. 

First, though, I needed to have a chat with my sister. 

I found her at the table in the casual dining room, surrounded by a bewildering array of _stuff._ She was writing what looked like a letter while eating a spiced pasty. Arranged in front of her were her inkwell, two circulars, a handkerchief and napkin, a glass of something orange and fizzy, two frosted cookies, a folding knife, an assortment of pens, a thin green ribbon and a small, oval rock. She was barefoot, but I could see her socks, one directly behind her chair, the other draped on the back of the couch at the other end of the room. "Hey Danae," I said. "Mind if I join you?" 

"Hi, Kai!" She'd picked up that greeting from Mae and said it at every opportunity now. "G'head. I'm just writing a friend in Antiva City." 

"Actually, I need to talk to you about something if you've a moment." 

She set her pen down and looked at me expectantly. I outlined the problem and asked if she could just take a bit more care, perhaps clean up after herself a little. To my surprise, she scowled at me. 

"Why? I haven't broken anything." 

"Because it shows respect and it would make Lucien very happy," I said. 

She snorted. "Make Lucien happy? Kai, that's what staff is _for._ Why should I do their job for them?" 

"It's not that, Danae. Like I said, it's to show some respect too. This isn't some Antivan dump you share with three other apprentices. Did you behave this way at home?" 

She took a rebellious bite of pasty. "As a matter of fact, I did. Mother and Father never said anything and the cleaning staff did their job and cleaned." 

"They never said anything?" I had trouble believing that. I clearly remembered being told to pick up my things and put them away on occasion. 

"Oh, they may have bitched once in a while, but it's not like they meant it. I just told one of the staff to take care of it and everyone was happy." 

I bit down on a few sarcastic rejoinders and said, "Well, be that as it may, this _isn't_ your house and you're twenty-seven years old, so I'm asking you as an adult to have a little respect, indulge our desire to keep the major-domo happy and make at least a slight effort not to leave discernible trails in your wake. It's not that difficult." 

She rolled her eyes at me. " _Fine._ I'll do the staff's job and tidy up. Anything else? Should I start cooking too?" 

"It's not a bad thing to learn, but I wouldn't dream of asking you to put yourself out like that," I said. 

"Yeah, well, understood. It's not my house, so I'll abide by your rules. I need to finish my letter, if you don't mind." She picked up her pen and made a great show of dipping it. 

"Go right ahead, I'll leave you to it, and thank you." I walked away. 

I heard her mutter, _Maker, I didn't realize what an old woman you could be,_ and chose to ignore it. It appeared my sister was a little bit spoiled. Unsurprising, I suppose, but I hadn't expected that. 

_=#=_

Not long after that, Dorian and I ended up not talking to each other for nearly half a day and it was mostly Swivet's fault. I think he'd been feeling neglected by Dorian, what with Ferox and our repeated disappearances when we had to travel (I'd made a point of fussing over him, so I was all right in his books). 

Anyway, he'd gone into the bedroom, found one of Dorian's favourite pairs of shoes and spent a good part of the morning chewing on them. Dorian had caught him in the act, at which point Swivet had dashed out of the room and straight to me, practically flinging himself into my arms squeaking like he was being chased by a pack of rabid wolves. 

Dorian had come in hot pursuit, shoes in hand. I made the mistake of looking amused and then mostly taking Swivet's side. That upset him, and I compounded my mistake by getting sarcastic back even though deep down I knew that was a bad idea (you don't tell him _Oh, settle down, it's just a bloody pair of shoes)_. 

So he got shouty and I shut down and walked out on him even though I knew he found that exasperating and…yeah. Even when you love someone deeply you can end up in fights over incredibly stupid things. 

_=#=_

The most spectacular mishap happened to Dorian. I was deep into a new novel by one of my favourite schlocky adventure writers when I heard what sounded like an explosion from the direction of the magical workroom. I dashed down the stairs (Lucien, Danae and a couple of the staff also arrived about the same time) to find Dorian stumbling out the door accompanied by a cloud of acidic-smelling smoke. 

"Dorian, what happened? Are you all right?" I took him by the shoulders and studied him carefully. He looked disoriented but I couldn't see any obvious injuries. However, his eyebrows were singed and his face looked sunburnt under a fine patina of ash. 

He blinked at me foggily.  "I'm fine, amatus. Mostly. I…may have miscalculated." 

It turned out he'd been experimenting with binding magically-imbued tinctures and metal alloys with an eye to making a device that could literally record  a musical performance then reproduce it over and over when triggered (I hadn't realized he was that serious when he said it). 

Unfortunately, the particular mix he'd been testing hadn't gotten along well, and when he applied heat and magic simultaneously, it exploded. 

Once the smoke had cleared, we went in to assess the damage. He'd cast a containment spell at the last moment that had kept it from destroying the workroom, but we were down a small smelter, a few amphorae, a section of shelving that had deposited its alchemical ingredients all over the counter, and the countertop itself, as it had melted and fused itself into a rather fascinating sculpture that unfortunately smelled like several nasty things had solidified together at once (which is technically what happened). We ended up having to replace that entire corner of the workroom, but compared to what could have happened, Dorian was lucky.


	47. Interlude (8)

"Bloody mages," Varlen grumbled under his breath as he tossed the last pieces of the fantastically warped counter top onto the cart. They'd spent half the afternoon tearing out the damaged section of the workroom, and as the most junior member of the staff, he'd gotten stuck with the job of getting rid of it all. At least one of the older elves had told him where everyone dumped the shite. Grunting with effort, he got the cart rolling, trundling it across the grounds until the old summer house hove into sight. They weren't kidding about it being the household's dumping ground; there was so much already there, no one would notice if he threw the leftovers from the boss's magical accident into the pile. 

He went round to the side that looked the least piled, pleased that he was out of sight of the main house, and started flinging hunks of shelving and cabinetry into the motley mass with a will. He gave the stinking pieces of warped counter top and containers with equally smelly, half-boiled alchemical goo the most muscle, throwing them as far and hard as he could. He didn't want the groundskeeper to accuse him of letting the nasty stuff land too near the beautifully tended lawns. 

Though he would never admit it, he was kind of enjoying himself, hearing the bottles and even the chunks of counter top make explosive shattering noises somewhere in the depths behind the main trash heap. In what seemed like very little time, the cart was empty. He trundled it back to the outbuilding from which he'd gotten it, taking an admittedly spiteful bit of joy in the tracks the cart was leaving on the pristine grass. 

The quiet world of the reflecting pool was rattled by a ragged series of explosions, though none heard them but the young elf responsible. Splashes of magically charged liquid went everywhere. Most of it landed harmlessly on the oddly clean stonework deck, but some landed close enough to the edge to trickle into the dry bottom of the reflecting pool, where it followed the ever-so-slight incline to that small depression with its small pool that was not water. As the liquid trickled in, eddies formed, spun, broke apart and formed again. 

_Welcome._

_Acceptance._


	48. A Summons and a Night In

A few days after Dorian's little accident, I was by myself on the back patio, reading my mail. Dorian was in the library deep in conversation with Marius in Minrathous via sending crystal, and my sister was doing something metallurgical in the workshop we'd set up for her. I opened the first envelope. 

_The Ostwick Beautification Society Needs You!_

_Dear Lord Trevelyan,_

_As a member of the ruling aristocracy of our fair country of Ostwick, we are sure that, even if you have relocated, you would wish to know that your Homeland is being cared for and maintained in the most dedicated manner possible. We at the Ostwick Beautification Society are committed to ensuring Ostwick remains the Jewel of the Free Marches, but to do so we need YOUR help._

_For just a small monthly donation of 59.95, you can rest assured that visits back to your beloved Homeland will be Journeys through the sort of Beauty you no doubt remember, and will ensure an even lovelier Legacy for your Children and Grandchildren._

"How do these people find me?" I muttered. Ostwick had never been known as the jewel of anything, and I had no interest in producing, adopting or even talking to children, so entreaties to legacies for them were lost on me. I incinerated it. 

The second letter was a financial statement from my bank in Hasmal. I skimmed it and put it aside to file. The third was from my parents, but before I could get to it, Dorian ambled out holding his own sheet of parchment. 

"It's here," he announced. 

"A new mission to places unknown?" I said. 

"Hm. Not quite. It is a summons for me to meet with the Archon in Qarinus two days hence." 

"The Archon again? Isn't that unusual?" 

"Generally speaking, yes." He kissed the top of my head, and took the seat next to me. "But I've never been a special agent of his before. I wonder if this will get us invited to his Satinalia party." 

"Why only you? What am I? Chopped liver?" I watched Ferox dash out the open patio door and leap into Dorian's lap. He settled himself and began purring loudly. 

"Of course not, but you're not a Magister. He has to keep up appearances, you know. Can't be seen meeting with random southerners." 

"So invite him to dinner." 

He stared at me. "You do not mean that." 

I laughed. "No, I don't. I'm quite content to let you meet with the man. I'm just surprised you're meeting with him, not Alectius." 

"As am I." He smoothed his moustache and fiddled with the tips then returned to stroking Ferox. "Perhaps it's just to personally congratulate us on the rousing success of our Castra Nicia adventure." 

"Suuure it is," I said with a smirk. "I suppose it's in the morning again." 

"Far too morning for your tastes," he said, skimming the contents of the parchment again. "Did you want to come with me?" 

"I don't know. I don't quite feel right leaving Danae by herself when we're obviously going to be travelling again soon, and I don't know that you want everyone along considering what you have to do. Besides, you'd just have to get to bed early, which means I'd either be stuck reading in some dimly-lit corner of the room or wandering around Qarinus feeling guilty if I had too much fun." 

He smiled. "Perhaps it would be best if I did this one myself. It'll give you some time with her, and I'll be able to concentrate on being ready for him. It's not wise to go into any meeting with the Archon unprepared." 

"I'll be interested to see if Kaeso pulled off his itinerary switch." 

"I promise I shall tell you every moment in colourful detail. I wonder what I should wear…" 

=#= 

Like the last time, Dorian chose to go into Qarinus proper the night before his meeting. I didn't blame him, but felt a slight pang that I wouldn't be accompanying him, despite my arguments why it wasn't worth it. 

Understand: I'm quite capable of carrying on with life in a perfectly competent fashion without Dorian being constantly at my side; it's just nicer when he's around. I was also curious why the Archon wanted to meet with him, and now I'd have to wait to find out unless he filled me in via sending crystal on the way home. 

He left shortly after dinner. I kissed him goodbye at the front door, watching with some amusement as two servants struggled to secure the large trunk containing his wardrobe to the top of the carriage. He swore he needed it all because he wouldn't be able to judge what ensemble to wear until he saw the weather and _mood_ of the next morning. We said all the usual things people say in parting, and I gave him a final wave as the carriage pulled away. 

I closed the front door to find Danae watching me with a faint smile. 

"Poor Kai," she said, "I bet you wish you were going with him instead of being stuck here with your little sister." 

"He's getting up revoltingly early to go to a meeting. It's not like we'd have a scandalous night of madcap hijinks," I said. "Besides, I rather like the idea of spending the evening with my little sister. Feel like retiring to the games room with a few drinks?" 

"Sounds like fun. I don't want to play that real estate game though.” She flipped her unruly hair back as we walked. 

"I was thinking cribbage if you're okay with that." 

"Very okay. I happen to be a demon at crib." 

"I hope you know I intend to make you eat those words." 

A few games and a few drinks later, we set down the cards to take a short break. We'd turned out to be quite evenly matched in our crib skills and had each won a game. Swivet had squeaked that he urgently needed to join the game when we started, but now he and Ferox were passed out on the couch, looking impossibly cute. 

I got us another drink each. Danae thanked me, chewed at her lip for a moment and said, "You think we could just talk for a bit?" 

"Of course." I moved over to sit in one of the more comfortable armchairs and Danae took the one across from me. I said, "What do you want to talk about?" 

"Is it awful to ask you stuff about ancient history?" 

I raised an eyebrow. "How ancient and whose history?" 

She threw back her shot of Antivan brandy and set down the glass with a _clunk_. "Ours. Our family. I want to know what _happened_." 

"You know what happened." 

"No." She sounded angry. "No I _don't._ I know when I was a baby they took you away, but why was everything so _fucked_ for so long?" 

"Well, it's not like there was much of an opportunity to fix things for a very long time," I said. "Besides, Mother and Father must have told you what happened." 

She snorted. "Kai, I got the little kid version. Nobody would ever tell me why everything was so bloody weird and _broken_ between you and them. When I tried to find out, Mother would just get angry and change the subject and Father either got sad and changed the subject or just fucked off to his study. What happened to _you_ fucked up pieces of _my_ life too, so I was hoping maybe you'd be willing to tell me the truth." 

"It fucked up your life? How?" I'd never considered that. 

"I promise I'll tell you, but you tell me first." 

"It was a long time ago." 

"Yes, I know that. You're stalling. _Please_ don't blow me off too." 

I sighed. "All right. You deserve to know. I've only told this story to Dorian." I barked a short, humourless laugh. "I doubt anyone else would care. I was thirteen years old; you weren't even walking yet…” 

*********

I found out I could do magic when I was about twelve and a half. The how of it doesn't really matter; I didn't blow anything up or kill anyone and no one saw the first time I accidentally cast a spell. Well, obviously, or I would have been taken away a lot sooner. 

It kind of scared me at first, but it was also amazing and it felt so damn good to use that new talent, I couldn't _not_ keep doing it. 

Even in the beginning, I knew better than to let anyone know or see me practicing. By the time I was thirteen, I thought I'd gotten that down to a science. I remember going as far away from the house as possible. I didn't even take my horse because I didn't want anyone to notice I'd left. 

There was a place about a thirty-minute walk from the house that seemed ideal. It looked like someone had made a half-hearted attempt at starting a quarry and given it up as too labour intensive. It was mostly rock once you squeezed past the trees that bordered it. A sheer rock wall descended to a table-like area where there were still a few big hunks of rock that had been cut into rough cubes but never removed. The plateau then descended about ten feet via high, uneven steps to a ditch that contained an anaemic streamlet bracketed on both banks by ragged, meandering clumps of dejected-looking grass, and that was the extent of nearby vegetation. 

It was perfect for the elemental magic that was the first to manifest in me. My earliest successes I could consistently reproduce were big, wobbly fireballs that burned themselves out almost immediately and little burps of electricity that flashed brightly into nothing nearly as soon as they were conjured. Useless, but they looked very dramatic. I was lucky I never injured myself with them, but at thirteen you never seriously consider things like that. I was convinced I'd been undetected, but sadly I was wrong. Someone had seen. 

The Templars had shown up one morning without warning. One moment I'd been sitting in the library having a perfectly satisfying adolescent fantasy, the next Mother was telling me there were _people_ there for me. 

There were three of the bastards. The youngest one tried to get me to admit I was a mage. That was the last thing I intended to do. If I did, they'd take me away, because that's the mildest thing Templars do to mages. I knew they locked mages up and never let them out again, and if a mage tried to escape or refused to go, Templars hunted and killed them. 

Understand, I would have jumped at the chance to get training, but they weren't there to help with that. They were there for one reason: to lock me up or kill me. So I denied it. I didn't know what else to do. I was having panicked, unrealistic thoughts of running away, or maybe hiring an apostate to teach me once my father ironed it all out because we were _noble,_ after all. 

We trouped outside, me still insisting I was no mage. Mother was furious, and half-convinced it was a social rival who'd put the Templars up to it. 

Then Father arrived and he didn't fix a thing because he couldn't. The Templars were determined. When I realized no one was going to save me, I panicked. A Templar clamped one big, armoured hand on my shoulder.  I screamed, _No,_ added _Fuck you!_ for good measure, stupidly cast the first really good fireball I'd ever been able to conjure, and took off running. I have no idea to where I thought I could escape. 

The Templar slammed me to the ground in a matter of seconds. I was hauled to my feet and held tightly. As he marched me back to the others, I begged my parents to help, screamed at them that all I needed was training. Though I was trying to hold them back, my eyes were starting to leak tears. 

It didn't matter. Father, looking like someone close to him had just died, shook his head, powerless. And as I begged, Mother — who'd had the most awful scowl on her face — looked straight into my eyes. In that moment I saw she hated me. Then she deliberately turned her back on me and walked into the house. 

The Templars bound me, threw me on a horse and took me away. 

It would be eighteen years before I saw my parents' home again. 

*********

"… And that's about it," I said. I killed off my beer and got another one from the bar, drinking about half of it before I went back to my seat. I couldn't believe how much telling it messed me up even after all that time. 

Danae was looking at me wide-eyed. "Andraste's bloody tits, Kai, that's _evil_." 

I took a deep, slightly shuddery breath. _Venhedis, I was probably going to have nightmares._ "Yeah, it was…kind of horrible." 

I heard a squeak-click down by my knee where Swivet was peering up at me. He knew I was upset. Even though he was technically too big, I boosted him into my lap. He settled down with a contented trill. I stroked his velvety skin and drank more beer, promising myself I’d slow down once my unexpectedly strong reaction levelled out. 

"I get Father's reaction, I think, but what the _fuck_? Why would Mother do that to you?" She looked outraged, which made me feel kind of nice. 

"She finally told me last year," I said. "You mind if I wait a few minutes to go into it? I think I'm a little storied out at the moment." 

"Sure, but— Last _year_? She made you wait 'til you were almost forty for an explanation?" 

"Well, some of that was my fault. I didn't try very hard to talk to them until last year. I mean, we talked, but never about that," I said. 

"Why _not_?" she demanded, "I would have." 

I gave her a slightly pained smile. "Yes, but you know them better. I didn't want to make things worse." 

"Wow. Just…wow." She shook her head slowly. "You want another beer?" 

I nodded. "Thanks." Swivet was draped comfortably across my lap and I didn't want to move if I didn't have to. 

Danae handed it to me then thudded into her armchair. 

"So did you ever find out who turned you into the Templars?" 

"Father told me last year. It was a fucking groundskeeper, if you can believe it." 

"A groundskeeper? Did he say which one?" 

"No. It probably doesn't even matter now. I'm sure whoever it was thought they were doing their duty to the Chantry and Andraste." I didn't quite manage to keep the bitterness out of my voice. 

"The Chantry again. Ugh." She made a disgusted face and took a drink of her own beer. "Well, I guess it's my turn to tell _you_ more of the many ways in which the stupid Chantry and their stupid rules about mages managed to fuck up our family." 

She told me how everything that happened had affected her life (I see that Dorian already snuck his own version in, so I won't reiterate here), after which we sat for some minutes in mutual appalled silence. 

"I would have been happy to see you when I was living in Ostwick, you know," I finally said. 

She grinned. "I know _now,_ but back then I would have taken one look at you and probably died of embarrassment. You were also a lot _older_ to me then than you are now." 

"I understand," I said. "I'm no better. I could have visited a hundred times and I didn't. _Venhedis,_ I could have invited the lot of you to Skyhold if I was just trying to look impressive." 

"You wouldn't have gotten me within a hundred leagues of that place, with all those Orlesians and Maker knows who else and you being all important. I would have felt a thousand times more like your embarrassing, dopey little bumpkin of a sister. I guess the parents might have been impressed." 

"I think it's better I didn't," I mused. "That whole few years was…strange. I think it would have been all wrong to try to get to know them back then. And you." 

"Well, saving the world probably didn't leave you a lot of time to think about how to fix things in your messed-up family. At least you got Dorian out of it." 

I smiled. "There is that, though that got complicated before we got everything sorted out too." 

"Complicated is better than _turned out to be a freaking lunatic_." 

"You win that one," I said. 

"So are you ready to tell me yet?" 

I stifled a burp. "Tell you what?" 

"Why Mother was such a bitch to you. It just seems so out of character." 

I tried to shift in my seat without jostling Swivet too much. He made a complainy little noise and resettled himself once I'd finished moving. "I suppose I'm up to it if you get me another drink." 

"Deal." She stood, saying, "I hope the hangover's worth it when we get up." 

"I almost never get hangovers," I said, taking the beer she offered. "I don't know if that's a good thing or not. I have a bad feeling it means my body's far too accustomed to alcohol." 

"Yeah, but you can heal yourself from all the damage it does to your body, can't you? So you might as well enjoy it." She sat down, raising an eyebrow at me. "Well? I'm waiting." 

"I'm thinking. It was during that same visit home last year. I think it was the second day there. I'd managed to start the visit off with a bang the night before by getting into a huge fight with Father about my moving to Tevinter. We'd kind of fixed that — or at least taken steps in the right direction — but it'd left me feeling overwhelmed and remembering too many things, so when Father said he needed to be by himself for a while, I did the same." 

I'd just mentally relived that whole shite scene when the Templars took me, and was feeling antisocial as all fuck when Mother walked into the library, wanting me to come to town with her. 

I said I would, of course, and once we were on the road…

She was being very nice, very fun, but that horrible day the Templars came was still preying on my mind, so I started asking her things. A lot of it's more interesting to me than you: I found out they'd tried to help and fought for me far more than I'd ever imagined while I was in there. We talked about when they came to see me, and that's when I finally got the balls to ask her… 

*********

"I thought you hated me," I said. 

"We never hated you, Kai." She pursed her lips. "You really thought that?" 

"Yes, I really did. I had reason to." 

Her eyes met mine with what looked like honest confusion. "Reason to? What did we do to make you think _that_?" 

"It wasn't Father, it was…" I looked her in the eyes and said flatly, "Tell me something, Mother: the day the Templars came. I saw the look on your face. Why did you walk away like that when they took me?" 

She sighed, stared straight ahead and said, "I am so very sorry about that. It's no excuse but…when they showed up like that I had no idea what was going on. I was confused and it was frightening and infuriating. I couldn't imagine why they were accusing you of something like that. Then when it turned out to be true? I know you were just a boy, but I felt so very _hurt_ that you hadn't trusted us enough to tell us. And I admit I was angry. I was angry with you and I was angry with those Templars and I was angry at myself. When they took you and you were begging us to help you I just…felt like if I stood there one more second I was going to fall to pieces. And I had a baby to worry about, and for one awful moment I was utterly furious with you for making all that happen." 

She gave me a quick, guilty glance. I didn't say anything or look at her yet. She looked away and continued, "I went and checked on the baby – who slept through the whole terrible thing, of course – and by the time I collected myself and went back out you were gone. It all happened so quickly neither one of us knew what to do. I know it doesn't help, but understand: It may not have seemed like it to you, but we were still young when that happened. Younger than you are now. And yes, we'd both grown up privileged. We'd never in our lives had someone just _march_ into our world and tear it apart like that. If you'd been kidnapped by thugs or run away, we could have done something about it, but _that_ … There was literally nothing we could do. Once we'd come to terms with what happened we did what we could, but even that was very little. It was devastating to lose you and it was devastating to realize we were powerless to stop it." 

She told me about their fears that Danae would manifest power too, and the years-long tension that caused. I digested that and asked the other thing that had been plaguing me for years. 

"I guess that's why you always hated my being a mage so much?" 

_"Hate_ is a bit much, don't you think?" 

"No. I don't. You wouldn't even say the words. Even after I left the circle, every time you had to admit I'm a mage, you said it like most people would say the words _child molester_. You got Father to back you up in your suggestion I look into being made _Tranquil_ , for pity's sake. And the looks on your face could strip paint. It made me feel like dirt, Mother. You weren't hating a bad habit I had. You were hating what I _am_. You kept acting like it was a disease that could be cured. It isn't." 

 She gave me a quick, guilty look. "You're right. I did that. For a long time I _felt_ that and…it was only partly because of being afraid for Danae. I…damn." 

She lapsed into silence. I waited, firmly controlling that part of me that wanted to shout in her face, maybe make her hurt as much as she'd hurt me. Finally I said, "What's the other part? Don't you think you owe me that much after all this time?" 

"Yes," she sounded almost angry again. "It just sounds so damned shallow." 

She barked a humourless explosion of a laugh. "Your father's side of the family is the religious one, but I think the only thing that truly upset him was you wouldn't be there carrying on the family name. I was the one who couldn't stomach the thought that you'd turned out to be a mage. All those Chantry teachings about mages came thundering back at me along with – Andraste's tits –" She looked me in the eyes finally, an odd mix of anger and shame on her face. "—along with a great big helping of _what will people think? What will they say? This is a social disaster._ " 

I kept my voice calm. "Thank you for confirming that." 

"I know what it must sound like to you. It sounds terrible to me. And selfish. I was imagining all our peers and so-called friends whispering to each other about the scandal and…Oh, Kai, I'm sorry. Truly." 

*********

"Wow." Danae shook her head. "That's…rough. No wonder. I mean, I knew she had a problem with you being a mage even though she tried to keep it from me, but…wow. I'm not surprised you stayed away." 

"Well, there was more to the conversation. We worked a lot of shite out, but that _is_ the essence of why things were so fucked up for so long," I said. 

Danae drank more, burped, and said, "No doubt. Andraste's tits. It's good she's changed her mind and she said she's sorry but I dunno. I think I'd have a problem forgiving all that." 

"It was no picnic for anyone," I said with a shrug. "And even after I sat there admitting I hadn't thought about how it affected them, I'm sorry to say I still didn't give a moment's thought to what it must have been like for you." 

"That's okay." Danae smiled a little drunkenly. "It sounds like we all did that. Guess issa Trevelyan thing—we all stink at sensitivity." 

"Especially when it comes to family," I amended. 

" _'Specially_ then. But Mother and Father still haven't visited you. I'm the first one!" She gave herself a pat on the back. 

"Well, I'm glad you came, even if it _was_ because you needed to leave Antiva and avoid the parents." 

"It _wasn't_." She looked ready to burst into tears all of a sudden. "I mean, it was, but that's not really why. I came 'cause you're my brother and I can't even say I love you and mean it because I don't _know_ you and that _stinks._ " 

"I didn't mean anything," I said with mild panic. "I was just — I mean — Shite." I didn't really know what I meant. 

"I know you didn't." She swiped at her eyes and smiled at me. "I didn't tell you I was sneakily trying to get to know you. I thought, y'know, tonight would be good to talk, then everything got way deeper than I'd expected and I guess I'm feeling a little emotional." 

"And maybe a little drunk?" 

"Certainly not." She sniffed. "Think we should get back to cards?" 

"I think that's a brilliant idea. I've had about as much ancient history as I can take for one night. C'mon Swivet, I need to stand up." 

"Aw, poor guy," Danae said as I slid out from under my nug. He made a noise like an unoiled hinge, hopped down to the floor, and sat to give himself a scratch. 

"Sorry, but if I don't get rid of some of this beer terrible things are going to happen." 

She smirked. "You mean you can't magic it away?" 

"I wish. It would make life much easier, or at least more pleasant." 

We spent another hour or so playing cards and talking about deliberately light subjects. By then Danae was definitely drunk and yawning every few minutes. I was fairly buzzed and tired myself, so we called it a night. As we stood, she gave me a hug and said, "Well, I don't know you enough to love you yet, but I like you a lot, big brother." 

I went to bed feeling good about everything, but had nightmares anyway.


	49. Interlude (9)

Deep below the nearly flat surface of the nearly empty old reflecting pool, something shifted again. The presence that was _like_ was _above_. 

Blindly, mindlessly, it moved ever-so-slightly upward.


	50. Interlude (9.5)

All that planning, and the bastards came in while she was sleeping. Bright light blinded her and she was trapped in a binding spell and conventional shackles before she'd even managed to shake off the sleep. They marched her down corridors, no one deigning to speak to her, and into a room filled with all manner of equipment she'd never seen before. At one end of the room was a block of three cells with glass fronts. A nervous-looking elf was in one, a human in another. They hustled her into the third and locked the door, releasing her from the binding spell. 

As time passed with nothing else happening, she went from nervous and angry (at herself, for missing her chance) to bored and angry, then just bored. Finally a group of humans came into the room. They approached the cells, studying each of their captives while taking notes and talking animatedly. She couldn't make out what they were so excited about. There was a flurry of activity at a worktable, more talk, then one woman took a container and went somewhere out of her line of sight. A minute later she heard a hissing as they pumped something into her cell. It smelled faintly and unpleasantly of feet. 

The gaggle of humans watched her and (she presumed) the others for several minutes, talking more and taking notes. She stared back at them, wondering what they'd expected to happen. More time passed. Finally there was one last flurry of talk and note-taking. 

One man approached her cell, making some sort of hand gesture. _Mage_ , she guessed. He spoke, and now she could hear him clearly. He confirmed her name, made a few more notes, then asked her several questions about how she felt. She told him his gas smelled like feet, and if they had any decency at all, they'd let her shower. He took more notes, made that hand gesture again and moved out of sight to the next cell. Once he'd asked all his questions, he left. 

The guards came back. They released the other two, leading them away. They threw the binding spell on her, marched her back to her dark cell and locked her back in. 

_Next time,_ she told herself, _I'll be ready. Next time someone dies._


	51. Dorian - A Visit to the City

**~~**

Your favourite moustachioed narrator is back! (Yes, yes, I know the exclamation points were supposed to be jettisoned, but how else do I convey a grand entrance?) 

I feel I should no longer need to explain why I'm breaking in; no doubt you've been breathlessly awaiting my return since you saw I was going on a solo journey. 

I arrived at my inn in Qarinus far too early to retire, though I was going to have to do that frightfully early in order to prepare for my morning meeting. 

Rather than sit in my stuffy room staring at the walls, I strolled down to the waterfront and had a light snack and a few drinks at a restaurant I'd frequented occasionally over the years, taking a small table out on the balcony that overlooked the water. I missed having Kai there; I saw at least half a dozen things I wanted to make pithy comments about, but it was no fun to just think them to myself. 

I reminded myself I needed to focus, therefore remaining solitary was a fine thing. The night was mild and the nearly full moon shining on the softly rippling water looked lovely. I tried to stop thinking so much and just relax. I was succeeding in my efforts when a speaker with a tenor voice said, "Dorian? Dorian Pavus?" 

I turned to view the source of this intrusion. 

Man in his early thirties, wearing an ensemble that had been the height of fashion perhaps three years earlier (I have to admit to being hazy on the exact time frame, as I'd spent some years down south with Kai). It was when the designers were having a love affair with pirates as an inspiration, so everything had been form-fitting trousers and high boots with floppy tops and doublets with blousy shirts underneath. He had all of the above in shades of brown and gold except the shirt, which was milky white. 

He had sandy blond hair, tan complexion, big brown eyes, narrow nose and full lips. It took an extra moment before my mind supplied a name: Arrun…something. I'd had a brief fling with him back when I'd been doing my level best to drown myself in drink and general debauchery. _Venhedis._

I said, "Excuse me?" 

"I knew it was you," he said as he appropriated the empty chair at my small table. "I thought to myself _no, it can't be_ , but here you are! You remember me, don't you? Arrun? Arrun Cervidus?" 

Hm. Add that those eyes have a permanent sort of vacuousness to them because there's not much of a brain behind them. I was beginning to remember. He sounded terrifyingly eager, so I clamped down on my natural, wittily suggestive response in favour of bland and unencouraging. "Arrun. Of course. It's been a while." 

"It's been _years_. How have you been? Do you remember that week we had at that villa on the shore at Neromenian? You must — we were _animals_." He grinned lasciviously. "I tell you, to this day Linus and Bitsy comment on the sheer stamina we possessed." 

Truthfully, I barely remembered that month, let alone the week he was babbling about, and I hadn't the slightest idea who _Linus and Bitsy_ might be. The very idea that I ever knew someone named Bitsy was unsettling. 

What was it Kai said: _I expect it'll be someone from your debauched past next._ Of all the things he could have accurately predicted. 

I shrugged. "I'm well, thank you, but I'm afraid the week you're talking about is all rather hazy. After all, it was a very long time ago, and I was very drunk from what I do recall." 

He laughed as if I'd said something witty. "Fasta vass, were you ever! Still, it was good times. Good times indeed. What are you doing here? Say, don't you have that big estate outside of town? Is it yours now? I mean, I was sorry to hear about your father — it took me a while to realize that Magister Pavus was, like, _you_ Pavus, your family — but do you live there, or is it your mother's? Or do you live with her? Kaffas, that's forward of me, sorry. I just can't _believe_ we're both sitting here together. I've only just moved to Qarinus myself." 

He finally stopped to take a breath, so I said, "Yes, I live out there. I'm in town for a meeting. A very _early_ meeting." 

"A meeting?" he said brightly. "With who? Oh, sorry, being forward again. You know, we should really get together when you've got some time." He licked his lips suggestively. "Or better yet, a _lot_ of time, eh?" 

"Sorry, Arrun, I'm with someone these days. Out of circulation, I'm afraid." Were I any more bland in my delivery, I could cure stomach ulcers.

His eyebrows flew up to his slightly receding hairline. " _Really_? I never thought I'd see the day. Well, well, who's the lucky fellow? And does he share?" He giggled at his own dubious witticism. 

I wondered just how drunk I must have been to put up with this idiot for a week. Mind you, I don't think we spent a great deal of time talking. 

"You wouldn't know him, and no," I said. 

Was he never going to notice that I was being unspeakably dull and unencouraging? 

"Too bad. I could probably show him a few things you like that he may not know about." He smirked and actually _winked_ at me. I was getting very angry with Past Dorian for associating with this gurgut's behind no matter how pretty and willing he might have been. 

"I wouldn't recommend that as an opening conversational gambit," I replied. Even his voice was just high-pitched enough to be grating. I much preferred Kai’s smooth baritone.

“Jealous, is he? What a shame. Ah, well. That’ll have to remain our little secret, won’t it.” He leered cheerfully at me.

I thought _Ugh,_ but merely said, "Now, Arrun, I'm sorry, but I really must be going." 

"So soon?” He just couldn't seem to take a hint. 

I stood, rather forcing him to follow suit. "Yes, well, this has been quite the surprise, Arrun. Nice to see you're still alive and kicking." 

He giggled again. "I understand. I caught you at a bad time. I'm just so tickled to see you, Dorian, and looking as handsome as ever. I should come see you at that big estate of yours, get caught up on what we're both doing." 

"Yes, right, well you take care of yourself, Arrun." I fastened my cloak and gave him a small, formal bow. "Good night." 

I headed to the closest exit and upon my escape, cast what Kai always calls a _don't notice me_ spell in case he had thoughts of seeing where I was staying.

_~#~_

My wake-up call came while my body was protesting that it had to still be nighttime, and in any case it was still asleep. I arose anyway. So many people do not understand the rigors I put myself through in the name of proper and aesthetic presentation, my amatus included. 

His approach to fashion consists of two questions: _Does it look like robes_ and _is it black_? If the answers are _no_ and _yes_ , he's usually satisfied. I've chosen to be amused by that rather than explain to him why I cannot bring myself to adopt his philosophy. In turn, he's chosen to be equally amused by my dedication to looking good in addition to simply being good-looking. 

Once I'd assessed the likely tenor of the meeting, the message I wished to convey, the colour palette of his office (including the effect the weather would have on that, what with that massive window overlooking the waterfront) and a handful of lesser considerations, I chose to go with an ensemble of primarily rich blues accented by blacks and greys. It would convey the proper serious demeanour, but the richness of the blue would prevent it from seeming austere. The combination also compliments my eyes, but I doubted the Archon would pay much heed to that detail. 

I chose a tailored fit that avoided what Kai would probably call _excessive flowiness_ , then realized part of the reason I'd done so without thinking was that he doesn't like that look. Perhaps Danae was right about us being more married than many married folk. Still, I reasoned, I don't keep myself in shape just to hide it behind drapey fabrics that will likely catch on something at the most inopportune moment. 

Having logicked out that little gem, thus proving Kai had nothing to do with my decision, I turned my attention to the rest of my preparations, and had myself looking impeccable and dashing with time to spare for an extra cup of coffee. 

I made my way to the Archon's compound and up to his antechamber. Alectius was there, dressed in an alarmingly brocaded vest of deepest vermilion and burgundy, brown trousers, a powder blue shirt and a twin of his many-pocketed green coat in burgundy. I was internally thrilled with myself for picking the opposite of his choices. 

He gave an officious little sniff when he saw me. "Magister Pavus. The Archon will see you shortly." 

"Shortly" was just as relative a term as last time. Once again I became intimately acquainted with the uncomfortable chair in the antechamber, and the more comfortable one in front of that obelisk of a desk with its literally creeping symbolism. 

Finally the Archon entered. He was wearing a similar outfit to the previous one, though this time charcoal was the predominant colour with a subtle silver pattern throughout, and his boots were black with silver dragons twining around them. He nodded to me and gestured that we should be seated in the informal section of his chambers. 

Once again, a slave dressed to match the décor appeared with drinks and that highly polished table allowed itself to be sullied with objects without retaliation. 

He took a sip of his drink and said, "Good morning. Shall I call you Magister Pavus or are you comfortable with a greater degree of informality?" 

"Informality is agreeable, Archon," I said. 

"Very good. Then I shall call you Dorian, and you shall call me…Archon." He smiled thinly. 

I returned just the right shade of a smile in acknowledgement of his little joke. "As you say, Archon." 

"Then let us dispense with formalities, Dorian. I imagine you're wondering why I asked you here rather than sending Alectius to you." 

"I admit to some curiosity regarding that, yes." 

"Well. Some things are not for even Alectius to know. You and Kai did well in Castra Nicia. Frankly, it was a better resolution than I expected. You delivered valuable assets to us." 

"Thank you, Archon." I was going to have to tell Kai we were dead right about the fate of Livia and her cohorts. 

"Tell me." He steepled his fingers in front of his chest. They're very long fingers, and rather knobbly. "Did you have to convince Kai to hand the Venatori over to us, or did he do it willingly?" 

"He had some reservations, as did I, but we discussed it, and agreed the idea is already out there and quite probably being worked on by more than one group. For all we know, some of the other supposedly magic-hating countries are even looking into it. Given that truth, it made more sense to have some level of control exerted over them rather than leave them to their own devices again." 

He took another sip of his drink, eyes boring into mine. He probably had to practice that trick before he was allowed to be Archon. "You could have killed them; removed the threat altogether. No one would have objected." 

"We're not murderers, Archon." 

"Even when they deserve it?" 

"In this case we did not feel comfortable playing executioner to so many. Tevinter may still visit that consequence on them if it deems it just for the crimes they committed." 

"You expected we would co-opt them, and still you handed them over. I found that interesting." 

"It was a calculated risk." 

"Am I to believe that Livia Herathinos being among their number had nothing to do with it?" 

"Are you suggesting I felt some residual affection for the girl I didn't want to marry? We didn't even like one another. I admit to being surprised she'd picked cult leadership as a career path, but considering she'd been perfectly willing to kill me, no. I'd have reached the same conclusion whether she was there or not." 

He gave an infinitesimal nod. "I am surprised they surrendered to you so willingly." 

I smiled faintly. "Well, we _had_ blown up their lab and their gate to the Fade." 

He chuckled for approximately two seconds. I wondered how much he'd really known about the situation at Castra Nicia before he sent us there. It was very possible the entire thing had been set up, in which case I doubt Livia and her people would have been pleased to discover the Archon would have been fine with us killing them all. I would have asked, but the chances of getting a truthful answer were so slim as to make it pointless. 

"Now that we have established the two of you exceeded my expectations, there is another situation that could use your particular combination of skills and qualifications." 

I raised an eyebrow. 

"Are you familiar with the city of Madauros?" 

I had to hand it to Kaeso; he'd actually accomplished his plan. "Madauros? It's in the mountains northeast of Perivantium.” 

"Correct. Anything else?" 

"Not offhand. I've never had reason to go there." 

He seemed satisfied with that answer. "No, and why would you? Why would anyone?"  

He leaned forward slightly, doing his eyes-boring-into-you trick again. "Magister Pavus, what I tell you now is not common knowledge, nor must it become such. I need your magically bound word that you will tell no one but Kai of this, and he must agree to the same." 

Oh, the things I could have said, were I allowed to be my usual witty self. Instead I said, "Of course, Archon." 

He cast a rather complicated little spell that ensured his tenets would be met. A bound spirit would accompany me home, manifesting when I brought up the subject. If anyone but Kai was present, I wouldn't be able to speak of it. If he didn't agree to the same spell, I wouldn't be able to speak of it. We could speak of it to each other after that, but not if there were others around. The spirit would report back to the Archon when all facets of the spell had been properly met and cast. I was actually getting a trifle enthused wondering what this incendiary information must be. 

Once he was satisfied, he said, "Madauros may seem dull, but it is a very important location to the Empire. Underneath Madauros lies the biggest, oldest lyrium mine in Tevinter." 

Oh. A giant lyrium mine. Be still, my heart. I said, "Is that so?" 

"Allow me to explain. We have not made this public knowledge because our enemies would then know to target it. In this particular mine, the veins of lyrium replace themselves over time. As nearly as we have been able to discern, it truly is a limitless source of lyrium and has been for centuries. I'm sure I don't have to explain the importance of this to you. It is one facet contributing to our being able to hold the Qun at bay for so many years." 

I nodded. "I understand." 

“They run a conventional mining operation alongside it, and until now that has been sufficient cover for the true importance of that particular mine.”

“Until now?”

He frowned slightly, though not at me. "The Qunari have been stepping up their efforts the last few years since their plans for a southern invasion were foiled — fear not, I am aware of who foiled it. We have had more incidences of sabotage along with the usual probing attacks, and those incidents have been more efficient and organized than past efforts. They are going after our infrastructure, and have been somewhat more successful than we would prefer be publicly known. We, of course, have countermeasures under way, but throughout these new attacks Madauros has always been secure." 

I could understand his caution now. "Is the Magisterium aware of this?" I asked. 

"To a degree. They are not aware of the extent of the Qunari success with this new tactic. Unfortunately, the Magisterium being what it is, many of them would use the information as another excuse to squabble and blame each other's Houses for the failures. All that would do is play into the Qunari's hands. You are allowed to discuss this with Kai; he seems to have a most canny grasp of the Qunari threat and what they're capable of." 

"Thank you, Archon." The information was truly worrisome. "How does our going to Madauros fit in?" 

"We have had troubling reports of possible Qunari activity in the area of the mine. It is even possible that they may have someone working with them on the inside in Madauros." 

"How inside are we talking?" 

"Ah, therein lies another part of the tale." He settled back in his chair, taking a position conducive to tale-telling.  

“You see, Madauros is unlike other cities. Its governmental seat is actually a walled city within the city proper. Some years ago a faction attempted to overthrow the government of the time to take control of the lyrium mine and all its tertiary assets. They were put down, of course, and every last one of them executed, but after that the walls were built. Only vetted and trusted individuals are allowed into the central city." 

"And that is where the inside person seems to be operating," I concluded. 

"I do enjoy it when I don't have to explain every last thing," he said. "We have some contracts and diplomatic overtures that need to be attended to there — just ongoing things that require no particular effort other than showing up to let them know they're important — that will provide you the reason to enter the central city. Your primary goal will be to identify any Qunari collaborators and assess the extent of the Qunari infiltration, if indeed there is one. Of course, should the opportunity to eliminate any of the above arise, you are welcome to do so in any manner you see fit."

"I take it in this instance execution would be the preferred manner?" 

"If you can find another way to utterly neutralize them as a threat, feel free to do so. If you are able to extract information from them beforehand, so much the better." 

So we were being given license to torture and kill people at will. Delightful. Kai and I would have to ensure Kaeso never found out about that or he'd come up with frequent excuses to do both. 

"So will it be just the two of us again?" I asked. 

"They'll expect you to have at least one assistant with you. We would also prefer it — many of the duties there could easily be performed by them while the two of you get to the real business of finding the Qunari threat. Pick someone you trust, but you're not to discuss anything beyond the diplomatic mission with them. Or if you wish, I can assign someone to you." 

I suspected one way or the other, it would be the same person. "I have someone in mind that should fit the bill perfectly, Archon." 

"Good. We are of an accord, then?" 

I gave him a single, firm nod. 

"You may discuss your timetable, transportation, and direct any further questions to Alectius. I understand you may need some time to make arrangements, but I would expect to hear of your departure for Madauros within the month." 

In other words, he was giving us just over a fortnight. "Certainly, Archon." 

He finished his drink and stood; I did the same. "Vitae benefaria, Magister Pavus." 

"Vitae benefaria, Archon." 

I left out the same door as last time, and once again Alectius was waiting for me. He handed me a sheaf of notes and told me he'd be contacting us via sending crystal in a few days, so we'd have time to look over the notes. I congratulated his organizational skills and his daring, mixing vermilion with that much burgundy, leaving him standing there trying to decide if he'd been insulted. 

I went back to the inn. Even with the waiting, the meeting had been so brief, chances were Kai would be barely stirring by the time I got home. He denies it, but he's always uncommunicative and snappish until he gets coffee in himself in the morning. It’s best to avoid him during that first half hour or so. Therefore, I got myself a light breakfast and dawdled at a few shops before setting out on my return trip. 

I wondered if he'd ever entered into a contract overseen by a bound spirit. I'd find out soon enough. 

**~~**


	52. Preparations

When I got up the next morning I wasn't hung over, but I did feel congested, a sure sign I'd overindulged. I cast a quick healing spell on myself, and another spell to alert the kitchen that I needed coffee. By the time I'd gotten myself in order, the coffee was ready. The day wasn't sweltering quite yet, so I took it out to the back patio and spent the better part of an hour reading with Ferox and Swivet keeping me company. 

I heard a sniff and looked up to see Danae clumping out to take a seat next to me. 

"Ugh," she said. 

"Hung over?" 

She took a drink of coffee. "Little bit of a headache. More stuffed up than anything." 

"Maker, you mean you inherited that too?" I grinned. 

"You too? Every time you drink too much?" she said, eyes widening. 

"Every time. You want me to at least help with the hangover part? I'm afraid healing spells don't do shite for the congestion." 

"I'll take anything you can offer." She sniffed again. 

Even my less-than-stellar healing spells can take the edge off a hangover, so I cast one on her. "Better?" 

"Wow. Yes." She drank more coffee. "I've never had a healing spell cast on me before. That's wild; I'm impressed." 

I smiled slightly. "Well, you're about the only one. Healing is one of my weakest areas when it comes to spellcasting." 

"You're not supposed to tell me that, idiot. You're supposed to give me one of those intense looks of yours and say something magey about powers beyond my ken." She smiled back at me. 

I laughed. "Well, at least I know you're not scared of me anymore." 

"It's hard to stay scared of someone who can't say no to his pet nug. Actually, it's hard to stay scared of someone who has a pet nug, period." 

"I shall have to contact my friend Varric and tell him he must write something where the villain is an evil nug owner just to prove you wrong." 

She raised an eyebrow. "Is the owner evil or the nug?" 

The conversation got increasingly silly from there, so I'll refrain from repeating it all. Suffice to say when Dorian emerged from the house, we were in the midst of a convoluted conversation about were-nugs. 

He looked from me to Danae and back and said, "Should I come back in a bit? This subject sounds far too important to interrupt." 

"It's true. It could one day save your life," Danae said solemnly then we both burst into laughter. 

"Well, perhaps I'd best let you finish, then. I'll just…leave," Dorian said, making a great show of looking bereft. 

"Oh, stop that and say hello to me," I demanded. "You know I've missed you terribly. We both have." 

He relented and kissed me hello then took the seat next to me. Ferox wasted no time jumping into his lap. A servant came out with a fizzy wine drink for him, so I asked for a beer. Danae declared she wasn't yet ready to drink anything else and stuck with coffee. 

"So how did it go?" I asked Dorian. 

"Oh, delightful. The Archon is having a croquet party on his private island next weekend — we're to bring dip and the family's crystal punchbowl. He does so admire the pattern Grandmother chose." 

Danae was staring at him wide-eyed. "Really? You're not serious, are you?" 

"He's not serious," I assured her. 

"How do you know?" Dorian said. 

"Because the Archon would not ask us to bring dip." 

"I knew I should have said napkins." He took a sip of his drink, undoubtedly just to string things along. "Anyway, the meeting went well enough, I suppose. I'll go over the details with you later, Kai." 

"Oooh, secret stuff?" Danae said. 

"Yes, actually. And when the Archon wants you to keep something private, it's best you do as he says. Otherwise we'll _never_ get invited to a croquet party." 

She laughed. "Okay, I won't pester you about it. We may only be Free Marches nobility, but I know how this stuff works." 

"Are we to be travelling?" I said. 

"Precisely as we expected," Dorian said. "Alectius has given us all the pertinent information." 

"Can you say where you're going?" Danae asked. 

"A lovely little mountain village called Madauros," Dorian said. "We are to assure them they are as important to the Empire as ever, bestow gifts upon them, and make sure they sign the things we need them to sign." 

"I absolutely believe they need a Magister and Kai to accomplish this mission, even though it sounds like one any low-level diplomat could do," Danae said. 

"There are no simple missions, only simple—" 

"Missionaries?" I suggested. 

We talked about nothing in particular for a while, then Danae announced she wanted to get cleaned up, adding that would also give Dorian time to tell me all the secret things without fear of anyone overhearing. We watched with amusement as she went back into the house. 

"You two seem to be getting along well," Dorian said. 

"Had a good talk last night. Dug up a lot of old family history that needed to be examined and put away," I said. "I think it helped us feel like we're actually related. So tell me what happened. It sounds like Kaeso made good on his promise." 

"Either that or it's a phenomenal coincidence. I'll give you all the gory details, but first there's a little something we need to do." 

"We have all night for that." 

"Really, amatus, must your mind always drift to the gutter?" he said mournfully. "This is an actual requirement the Archon put in place. I'm ready to discuss the real reason behind our trip to Madauros." 

He stopped and a moment later a spirit materialized before us. "Ever had your word magically bound?" 

"I've heard of it, but never had to do it, no." 

He explained to me what the parameters of this particular spell were. 

"So once I agree to it and the spell's set we'll literally only be able to talk to each other about the real mission?" I said. 

Dorian nodded. "The Archon's a _teensy_ bit paranoid about certain aspects of this situation." 

"So not even Kaeso can hear it?" 

He grinned. "Not even Kaeso. Can you live with that?" 

"I think so. Is this stricture going to be a permanent thing?" 

"A fine question, that, and one the Archon did not provide an answer to. I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for it to be removed — national security and all. Does it matter to you?" 

I'd been thinking about that. "I suppose not, though it's one less thing we can bring up to impress with at the next cocktail party. Let's do it; I'm curious to see how this spell works in real life." 

How it worked was: The spirit listed off the specific topics that were to be forbidden. We then double checked that they weren't so broad they'd interfere with other, normal conversations and added the proviso that we were allowed to bring them up at the actual negotiations, should that become necessary. After all, it would come as no surprise to the top levels of city government that they were sitting on top of a bloody great lyrium mine.

Once everyone was happy, Dorian cast the spell with the spirit adding enough of its energy that it was tied to the spell and those it affected — that is, Dorian and me — I added what amounted to a magical version of my signature and it was done. Pretty standard stuff in Tevinter, but it was rare in the south. As soon as it was done, the spirit disappeared. 

"Well, that was fun," Dorian said cheerfully. "Now I get to tell you deep, dark secrets that even Alectius doesn't know." 

"That I do like," I said. 

Dorian proceeded to fill me in on what the Archon's concern was and what we were expected to do for him. Once he was done it made sense and I said as much. 

"At least we're not likely to be handing another group of potentially dangerous mages over to the government at the end of this one," I said. 

"No, because this time we'll have killed them all," Dorian said with wide-eyed enthusiasm. "Almost like the good old Inquisition days." 

"I have to admit, we are uniquely qualified for this one. I wonder how much Kaeso knows about it." 

"He does like to brag about himself, so perhaps he'll let slip. I suppose you'd better send a formal note off to him." 

"Me? _You're_ the Magister in charge of this." 

He gave me an evil grin. "Yes, but he's _your_ discovery and soul mate.” 

"Fine, I'll write him," I said, rolling my eyes. "Shouldn't we make the rest of the arrangements first so I can tell him when and where to meet us?" 

"Always with the details, you are." 

"Lingering effect of two years as a scrivener," I said. 

"Always holding the fact that you had a real job over my head too." 

"It makes me more able to relate to the common man." I gave him a superior smile. 

"Well, I suppose if one's goal is to be _common_ …" He inspected his fingernails. "Personally I've always set my aspirations somewhat higher." 

"Well, if you're going to be like that," I reached over and mussed his hair. 

"See, that's the way of you common men," he said as he smoothed it back into place. "The moment you don't have a good answer to something, you resort to violence." 

"Or it was just an excuse to muss your hair because I think it looks good that way." I took a sip of beer, wondered if it would be weird to have a coffee along with it and decided to give it a try. I summoned a servant as I said, "So if we're playing diplomat on this mission, I suppose that means we'll have to hire a coach." 

"You'd prefer to gallop in on a magnificent stallion that will accept only you as its rider?" 

"That does have a certain appeal, but I was mainly thinking about how many hours of sitting in a bloody coach this trip will likely entail." 

"Amatus, I really don't fancy hard riding and bedrolls all the way there. Coaches and inns may be less rugged, but we're not getting any younger and I, for one, have no wish to encourage that weathered look." 

"I didn't say I wanted to sleep under the stars; I much prefer inns. I'd just like to be able to get out of the damned coach and ride on occasion." 

"I'm sure we can arrange that." 

He took out Alectius's sheaf of notes and set it on the table between us. "Let's see how long this excursion is likely to take." 

Looking over the timetables Alectius had given us, it appeared the answer was about a week no matter which company we hired. 

"Someone somewhere really needs to come up with some quicker modes of transportation," I complained. 

"I couldn't agree with you more," Dorian said with a sigh. "If only we could set up an eluvian network within Tevinter." 

"You could float that idea to the Archon." 

"I could also shave my moustache, dye my hair blond and convert my entire wardrobe to gingham. Guess which would happen first." 

I laughed. "I rescind the suggestion. Andraste's saggy ball sack, I'm sick of travelling, though." 

"You'd rather disastrous things only happen within walking distance?" 

"I was thinking more along the lines of instantaneous travel. Regardless, is there anything in that information packet we vitally need to know?" 

We looked through it. Part of it read like Alectius was trying to encourage visitors to Madauros, with passages on its colourful history (minus the little detail about the bloody great lyrium mine underneath it), unique architecture and spectacular views, and important facts and features of the city. There was an exhaustive list of who was who in the city's elite circles that we did pay some attention, and a map to which we paid a great deal of attention. 

Rather than take another trip back into Qarinus just to arrange transportation, Dorian contacted Alectius via sending crystal (much to the man's annoyance from the sound of it) and instructed him to set it up with the company we'd chosen. Keeping in mind the Archon's time stricture, we decided to leave in ten days. 

I dashed off a note to Kaeso telling him where and when to meet us. We sent it via raven to Dorian's Lucerni lieutenant Marius in Minrathous, who'd take it to the mail drop we used to contact Kaeso. The method was somewhat convoluted, but quicker than a conventional courier. As long as Kaeso sailed from Minrathous, he'd make it in time. 

We spent part of the ten days preparing for the journey. Dorian had many wardrobe requirements that needed to be attended to, including getting after the armorer in Qarinus to deliver his new set in time. I spent a great deal of time honing and strengthening my crossbows and the spells on the bolts, and hardening my coat and boots with fresh spells. 

The rest of our time was spent with the people and things that were important to us. That primarily meant Danae and Maevaris, and ensuring we paid more than usual attention to Swivet and Ferox. Fortunately our pets had decided they liked each other and seemed quite able to entertain themselves in our absence. They also adored Danae, so Lucien was able to escape being asked to pay attention to them.  

I still asked Danae to pay extra attention to Swivet, because even with the addition of Ferox to the household, he sensed that we were preparing to leave again and followed me everywhere. I swear he made disconsolate little sighs and trills just to make me feel guilty.

Probably the most important thing we did during that time was sit down with Maevaris to outline our concerns that part of the reason for this trip was to distract Dorian from paying proper attention to the Lucerni. 

"I don't know that it's his primary reason, but it's certainly a fringe benefit," Dorian said. 

Mae gave us a sardonic smile. "I'm sure that's occurred to him. It's classic Radonis. Why have one reason for doing something when you can have twelve?" 

"Are you confident handing more responsibility to Marius?" I asked Dorian. 

He nodded. "He's the most capable and well-informed. Mae?" 

"I agree. The question is, how distracted can he continue to keep you? Once the Magisterium is back in session, you have to be able to attend." 

"Some Magisters attend only infrequently. If the brush fires he's having us put out are legitimately tricky enough, I could easily be kept away from Minrathous for the majority of the year." 

"If he tries that, I'll offer to do the odd one solo, or find someone else to take along," I said. 

"You think he'd go for that, Kai?" Mae asked. 

"The purported reason for this was to make sure I'm earning my admission to Tevinter society…and getting Dorian off the hook for not producing a new mage in the conventional way," I added with a slight smirk. 

"I'm not sure _I_ like that idea," Dorian said. 

"It may not come to that," I said. 

"For now, we'll just assume you'll be there once the Magisterium is in session, Dor," Mae said. "I'll get Marius up to speed and make sure any information you might need is delivered to Lucien." 

Dorian sighed. "I suppose that's the best we can do for the time being." 

"Would he be transparent enough to find something equally important for you or Marius to do, Mae?" I asked. 

She chewed her lower lip. "Unlikely. As you say, that would be far too transparent. But we'll be watching for any additional moves." 

And that's where we had to leave it. Dorian was unhappy, but there was no action we could take. I think it was the knowledge that we were being manipulated and he was powerless to counter it that galled him more than anything. 

=#= 

Finally the day of our departure dawned. We got up stupidly early to head into town, where we were to meet Kaeso at the coach house. 

"If he's not there on time, I'll kill him," Dorian stated. 

"I'll help," I said around a yawn. I then slept the entire way to Qarinus, only waking as we pulled up to our destination. Dorian went off to tell the stationmaster we were there while I rubbed at my eyes and tried to wake properly. 

"Will you be wanting coffee, Dominus? There is a small shop attached to the station that sells it," someone said right next to me. "I believe there is sufficient time before you depart." 

"That's a wonderful idea. Thank you," I turned to see who was being so helpful and barked a small, involuntary laugh of surprise. "Kaeso?" 

He gave me a professional smile and a small bow. "At your service." 

His usual colourful, quasi-Antivan clothing was gone, replaced by a businesslike ensemble that was sober in both cut and colour. His dark, close-cropped hair and beard were newly trimmed. He looked every inch a professional assistant. 

"I am impressed," I said. "Now if you could show me to the coffee?" 

"Of course," he said, indicating I should follow him. "Still worried about me?" 

"Who said we were worried?" 

"Are you honestly going to tell me you weren't? Not even a tiny bit?" 

"I'm always a _bit_ worried about you, Kaeso." I knew that would make him happy. "Where are your things?" 

"Already lodged with the stationmaster and ready to be loaded. Kaeso the Assistant is a very efficient fellow." 

We ordered coffee and were drinking it when Dorian found us. 

"I thought you'd be here," he said. "They'll be another half hour loading the coach and hitching the horses. I must say, Kaeso, you look every inch the attaché. Well done. I assume you can act the part just as well?" 

"Of course. I'm a professional," he said with a fussy little sniff. "Since this coach ride is going to be interminable, I'll wait until we're on the road to tell you what we need to retrieve in Madauros. It should save us from at least an hour's awkward conversation." 

We drank coffee, talked in general terms about the job ahead and, at the last moment, used the facilities before boarding our coach. 

It was a high-end model, of course, with plushly padded seats, the latest in shock absorption and a bound spirit providing temperature control. There was even a small, magically cooled box to hold a few refreshments. Considering the amount of time we were going to be spending in the bloody thing, at least they'd made every effort to make it tolerable, and it was certainly leagues beyond anything you'd find in the south. 

The coachman got the horses moving and we settled in for the long trek to Madauros.


	53. Interlude (10)

It made its slow, inexorable climb unthinkingly. It didn't differentiate between soil and long-buried chambers as it climbed, though it gathered stray bits of old magic to itself like lint as it passed through them. Following the pull of the _like_ , it pushed through a last layer of stonework and tile to the small pool of not-water that lay in the small depression in the old reflecting pool. 

_Greeting/reunion_. 

In the magical spectrum, something flashed and a wave of energy raced away from the reflecting pool like ripples on water, but the only mages who might have noticed it were far away, and nothing else ventured near that place. 

The pool of not-water was no longer so small, and within it old magics and scraps of remembrance swirled, combined, broke apart to form new structures shaped by ancient energies and more recent madnesses. 

_Becoming._


	54. Part 8: Madauros / Aboveground

_On the Road_

"Are we there yet?" 

"Kaeso, that wasn't funny the first three times you said it." 

Kaeso smirked. We'd been on the road for all of two hours and I was already tired of it. 

Dorian yawned and said, "Rather than being an irritant, why don't you enthral us with your information about this object it's so necessary you retrieve." 

"Oh, very well. I can see you're both going to get snippy if I don't," Kaeso huffed. He pulled a thin leather satchel from the larger bag he’d stashed under his seat and handed us each a piece of paper. "I had these copied out for you. It's a rough map and an illustration of the thing we're looking for. And before you ask, no, I don't know what it does or why they want it." 

"What is this a map of?" I asked. It was little more than a sketch of lines and boxes that could have been anything, as there was no legend with it. 

"It's for when we get to the place the object’s housed," Kaeso said. "It's up to us — well, me — to find that place. I know we're to take one particular route that will lead us down to the place the map kicks in. It's all there at the bottom in the notes." 

"So what are these little squares on the map?" Dorian said. 

"Possible traps, could be mechanical or magical," Kaeso said. "Of course, it could be rooms or pits of acid. I don't know."

“Kaeso, I’ve seen better maps sketched in dirt by a drunken, illiterate scout,” I complained.

“This may be the Sacer Saeculum’s idea of a joke. They’re spiteful, every one of them,” Kaeso said.

“Assuming they’re meant to be rooms, we seem to be looking for three of them that are connected,” Dorian said, ignoring both of us. "And the object's guarded as well?"

"So they say." 

"Sounds like fun," I said. "Is this an accurate drawing of the thing? Or I suppose you wouldn't know." 

"That's what they gave me," Kaeso said with a shrug. "I know a ball in a bowl is none too exciting, but they seem to think it is. Maybe it's got _etchings._ " 

"Does it have a name?" Dorian asked. "All items of great portent that require guards and the like are supposed to have names." 

"They didn't say. We could give it one if you like." Kaeso said. "Perhaps the Orb of—" 

"No Orbs," I interrupted. "We've had bad luck with those." 

"Let's just skip the name until we see if it's got one engraved on it," Dorian said. 

We discussed the particulars on Kaeso's fact sheet, but until we could see for ourselves what we were up against, there wasn't a great deal that could be planned. In less than an hour we'd exhausted the subject. 

Kaeso put his sheet back in the satchel, tossed it under the seat and looked out the window for perhaps half a minute before announcing, "Well, I'm bored. I don't suppose you two would care to put on a live sex show to entertain me?" He took in our identical not-on-your-life looks and grinned. "No? How about dice, then?" 

Over the hours we discovered if you could dissuade him from being an irritant, Kaeso was actually quite good company. Still, it was a relief to pull into an inn for the night. I was not looking forward to another six days of travelling, but there was no way around it. 

=#= 

The next day started out the same, but after a few hours I decided I'd had enough of sitting in a coach, no matter how luxurious. The countryside we were travelling through had low, rolling hills covered with grasses and copses of deciduous trees. There was a light breeze blowing. Off in the distance, one could see the occasional collection of white buildings with red or brown roofs; I wasn't sure if they were small villages or large estates. The road we were on was smooth and well-tended. It was the perfect kind of countryside for riding through, so I got the driver to stop. 

"Heading out, then?" Dorian asked. 

"You're welcome to join me," I said. 

"No thank you, amatus. There's far too much unfiltered weather out there." 

Kaeso squinted at me. "What are you up to, Kai?" 

"Just going to ride alongside with our outrider." I strapped on my crossbows and hopped out of the coach. The driver had been told to expect this, so she had a horse at the ready for me. The company provided at least one outrider with every coach, and ours was looking at me suspiciously. "Be back in a while." 

Dorian gave me a wave, looking patiently amused. Kaeso's expression suggested he thought I was mad. 

"Don't worry, I used to do this for a living," I told the outrider, who didn’t appear impressed. The driver got the horses moving again. 

We weren't accosted by a single bandit that day, but I got to know our outrider, whose name was Adan. He was human, tall and solidly built, with pale brown eyes and dusty brown hair he wore in a braid. He sported a wide-brimmed, flat topped hat (also brown) and smoked skinny cigars. He had a mage's staff strapped to his back, but also had a set of daggers in well-worn sheaths at his hips. It took him a few hours to thaw towards me, but once I was able to convince him I actually knew what I was doing, we got along well. It was a damn sight better than being cooped up in that coach for hours. 

Once we were in our room at that night's inn — with Kaeso safely in his own room — I said to Dorian, "So I found out a few interesting tidbits today." 

Dorian shrugged out of his jacket and stretched out on the bed. "Do tell? Courtesy of your friend the outrider?" 

"Mm hm." I told my prosthesis to let go and pulled it off, setting it on the dresser next to me. "He's been hearing some interesting rumblings concerning the Qunari. Want a beer?" 

"Why not? We're in a beery sort of place, I'd say. What sort of rumblings?" 

I handed him a bottle from the supply I'd bought earlier and got myself one. 

"That they've all but stopped their forays into the towns west of Perivantium lately. He said they've had some sort of outpost somewhere in the mountains for some time, but no one's been able to find it. They had been attacking infrastructural targets for the better part of the last year, but in the last few months that's virtually stopped. No one's stupid enough to think they've just grown bored and left, but consensus is they're up to something new." 

He raised an eyebrow. "Something with a better payoff, you think? Say, perhaps, a nice big lyrium mine?" 

"You know the Qunari as well as I, if not better. It's not all that different from what they tried down south." 

"It's not likely to be as easy as keeping an eye on the elven slaves and servants this time, not after Fen'Harel's uprising. I'm guessing a place like Madauros may have purged most of their elves after that." 

I nodded as I sat on the right side of the bed (I had to take that side so I could easily reach the nightstand with the prosthesis off). "So we watch the human servants more closely and keep in mind that the Qunari could easily have someone planted higher up, especially if they're playing a long game." 

"Did you learn anything else?" 

"Only that he's slightly familiar with Fadik but hasn't seen her in months. You know you're welcome to join me if you want." 

He smoothed his moustache. "I don't know, that just reeks too much of outdoorsiness. Imagine if word got back to the wrong circles." 

"It would enhance their confusion and your mystique." 

"You're just saying that," he scoffed. 

"Not at all. Whatever would they make of a Magister who does such things? Leaving the coach to prance about on your horse in front of commoners is one thing, but to do it when you might end up in actual combat? Makes you unpredictable and possibly more dangerous." I took a drink as punctuation. 

"Or just mad and acting like a filthy Soporati," he countered. "Fraternising with a commoner like our outrider?" 

"I don't know who would report such a thing, but have it your way." I shrugged. "Kaeso would probably pout if you abandoned him in the coach anyway." 

"Hm. In that case, perhaps I _should_ join you." 

=#= 

I'd like to report a thrilling overland journey, rife with discovery and exciting encounters with exotic new people and entities, but the rest of the trip to Madauros was just more of the same. The land through which we were travelling was all long inhabited; there were no mysterious ruins or secret pockets of abandoned magic. The roads were well-tended, and towns and even small cities were frequent. Much of the land was given over to agriculture or ranching, and the stretches of forest we passed through had been tamed long ago. 

One of the things rarely mentioned in the south is Tevinter is a pretty land. They've had centuries to build their civilization, and everywhere you go are graceful old buildings, bridges and plazas. There are lush fields and forests, wide, sparkling rivers and lakes, picturesque mountains, and on the coast, a thriving maritime culture. The vegetation is more tropical and the architecture less boxy than the south, and the use of magic in everyday life has given Tevinter society things the south never dreamed of and, for some unfathomable reason, has never even tried to replicate by other means. I've talked quite a lot about some of those elsewhere, so I shan't go into detail again. 

Since I'm sure it will be brought up, yes, in some areas Tevinter has certainly begun to fray around the edges if you compare her to her former glory. They still depend far too much on slavery. They sometimes use magic as a shortcut to avoid addressing real problems like crumbling infrastructure. The cities are overcrowded and too many of the elite classes (which I admit Dorian and I are part of) act as though they can do what they want without consequence and live in their own little world of manipulative political, magical and mind games without a thought beyond their own small circles of power and intrigue. Poor sections of the cities may as well be down south, for all the benefit they get from the magical enhancements in the nicer parts of town. They also have one bastard of a nasty desert smack in the middle of the land in the form of the Silent Plains. 

But if they're fraying, consider that Tevinter alone has been largely responsible for holding back Qunari expansionism and religious tyranny for those same centuries, and from the south they mostly get scorn. I'm not saying they're all wonderful, altruistic people, but I do think some of the south's attitude has nothing to do with dismay at slavery or governmental corruption and everything to do with their fear and hatred of mages. 

I had a lot of time to think those thoughts while we were en route to Madauros. 

I spent probably half my time riding alongside our coach, with Dorian joining me occasionally (Kaeso utterly refused to consider the idea). The weather was mostly clear and hot (which meant I adopted a rather rakish bandana as a head covering to avoid excessive sunburn) and we didn't see so much as one bandit, brigand or highwayman. I admit I was slightly disappointed, but only slightly. 

On the sixth day, we reached the foothills. I'll give Tevinter credit — among the many things they do well, even if you don't agree with their methods, are roads. The one on which we ascended was smooth and in good repair and wide enough that two coaches could pass each other. Even its occasional switchbacks were as mildly arced as possible, the grade not so steep that the horses couldn't handle it while pulling a loaded coach. The temperature was slowly cooling as we climbed, and tall, coniferous trees blocked some of the sunlight. 

We spent the night in an inn every bit as woodsy as anything in Wildervale. In fact, it was a little _too_ woodsy, as during the night something likely insectile bit Dorian on the back in one of those spots that's nearly impossible to reach. I escaped unscathed, but the itching drove him round the bend most of the next day. 

Mid-afternoon of the seventh day, we reached the outskirts of Madauros. I'd seen a few mountain villages down in the Frostbacks, but they were all collections of rude hovels slapped together by barbarians compared to this place. The first signs of habitation were a lumber mill and a road leading deeper into the forest with a sign reading _Accipiter Quarry_. A few miles farther along the town proper started, first with outbuildings and warehouses for…well, whatever Madauros warehoused, I suppose, then barnlike businesses that seemed mainly concerned with supplying the forestry and mining concerns. We passed a few houses and eateries before reaching a gated entryway in a high stone wall that marked the true beginning of Madauros. Armed guards stopped us and spoke briefly with the driver then waved us on through. 

Unsurprisingly, the buildings and streets of Madauros were all of stone and brickwork with wooden accents. In some areas they'd carved into the side of the mountain itself. What was refreshing was the continued quality of the main streets. Most mountain villages I'd seen had little but narrow, twisty roads; in Madauros they'd managed to keep them straight and wide enough to allow for horse-drawn vehicles to navigate comfortably. The buildings all looked to be two to four stories tall, and they were big on arched doorways. As we made our way to our inn, I looked with interest down some of the side streets (peering from the window of the coach, as it would be unthinkable for me to arrive in my official capacity riding along like a common outrider). They were narrower, and on a few occasions even included flights of steps, but everything looked to be laid out with an eye to being aesthetically pleasing as well as practical. Here and there I could see patches of greenery where they'd put in small parks and gardens, and as we neared a more open area of the city I got my first glimpse of its odd, walled centre. 

The centre wasn't actually in the centre of Madauros. Rather, the wall stretched around two thirds of it, right up to the point where the rest was built right into the mountainside. The wall itself was perhaps twenty feet tall and wide enough for two people to comfortably pass one another along the top. We'd have a closer look at it the next day when we entered. 

Our inn was in an upscale section of the city. There were more parks, ornate stone- and metalwork and decorative embellishments like flower boxes and coloured mage-lights than we'd seen on the way in. The district directly around our inn held restaurants with outside patios, small shops whose items had large prices, and a number of tastefully decorated pubs.  Some of the buildings stretched as high as six stories there, and it looked as if a few of them had rooftop gardens. 

The inn was one of the six story structures. It was made of brick, but the brickwork had been bonded with a veneer that made it look like polished black granite with delicate veins of gold snaking throughout. The doors were dark, polished hardwood with brass accents. 

Kaeso would be first in as our assistant, and it was fascinating to watch him drop into character. He went from lolling on his seat in the coach — making pithy observations about everything that caught his eye interspersed with salacious  comments about our sex life — to a smoothly professional gentleman with posture and diction every bit as impeccable as his dress. I now understood how he could fool everyone in the Grand Cathedral of Val Royeaux for a solid year. 

He disappeared inside, came out shortly after trailed by a footman who opened the door to our coach and stood at the ready to assist us, should the short hop to the ground prove too taxing. 

Kaeso led us through the entrance, saying, "Magister, Dominus, your suite is ready. I shall be in the room next to it. There are private rooms should you wish to dine here at the inn, and also private baths should you wish them after our long journey. The innkeeper has assured me you shall find a fully stocked bar and a selection of refreshments at the ready for you. Is there anything else you require?" 

"No, just see to it that we’re not disturbed. We want our privacy," I said. 

Kaeso executed a precise little bow. "Of course. The young lady here will show you to your suite, and your luggage will be along momentarily." 

"Thank you, Kaeso," Dorian said. "Once you've seen to that, take some time to get yourself settled in as well. We won't require your services for the next few hours." 

"As you say, Magister." He gave us another precise bow and left us to follow a human woman who led us to a dwarven-made mechanical lift that carried us upstairs to the sixth floor and our large, airy suite. 

The coat closet was to our right as we entered. Straight ahead was a large living area with a couch and two overstuffed chairs, a low table in front of the couch and small tables next to each chair, a small but well-stocked bar and, off to one side, a sideboard — with a few platters of refreshments at the ready — and another table and chairs for dining. The far wall was nearly all glass and afforded a spectacular view of the valley below. To our left were two doorways — one to the washroom and one to the bedroom.

I took off my coat and strolled over to the wall of glass. The city and mountains beyond stretched out below us, painted in orange and red with purple shadows encroaching as the sun set. The colours and lighting made the view appear ethereal, like an artist’s impression rather than a real thing. "Impressive. I had no idea we were this high up." 

Dorian tossed his own coat on the couch and joined me. "Nor I." 

He looked critically at the windows. "Quality work here — these are spelled when they're made. You can see out, but people can't see in. Or if you prefer…" He cast a small spell I wasn't familiar with and the windows went partially opaque, taking on a blue-black tint. 

"Kaeso did similar with his windows when I met him, but he used a device," I said. 

Dorian nodded. "They have those for the occasional untalented but wealthy sorts that visit. This is easier." He showed me the spell, which was so simple a beginner or hedge mage could do it. I played with it a little to get the hang of it, finally leaving the windows with a slight tint to them to cut down on the sun's glare. 

"No live-in suite slave, I see," I said with relief. 

"Not every place does live-ins. Many people want privacy, especially when they first arrive," Dorian explained. "Often they're available on request, like room service." 

"Good. Last thing I want is to deal with another awkward situation. I feel grotty and antisocial, present company excepted." 

A peremptory knock sounded at the door followed by a man with our luggage. He deposited it in the bedroom and left. 

"Mind if I clean up first?" I asked. 

"Go right ahead. I want to unpack." 

I stopped sorting through my clothes to look up at him. "You don't expect they'll want us to stay in the city centre?" 

"I expect they will, but I'd rather not commit to residing in that pile of rocks. This place is pleasant and more importantly, affords us some privacy. We're paid up here for a fortnight because I wasn't sure how long this little caper might take." 

"How do you know they won't insist?" 

He smirked. "I'm a Magister. They can't _make_ me do anything. I checked around, and this place is popular among the diplomatic set, so it won't surprise them at all that we choose to stay here." 

I grinned. "Well, look at you being all efficient and strategic. And yet you still claim you're not cut out for this line of work?" 

"Oh, go clean up, you smell all horsey after playing outrider half the day," he groused, but he looked pleased.


	55. Unwelcome Guests

We left it to Kaeso to arrange the next day’s introduction to the city centre, had a fine meal, and spent the evening seeing what Madauros had to offer by way of entertainment. The place wasn't a beehive of activity, but it wasn't the cultural backwater we'd both been expecting either. Admittedly, we were in the upper-class section of the city, so more care had undoubtedly been lavished on making sure visitors were entertained and favourably impressed, but if they had a downtrodden underclass they were keeping it well hidden. 

We got back to our suite late that evening and had just started a game of cards when we heard the distinctive chime of a sending crystal. Dorian got up to check which one it was. 

"Well, that's different," he said. "It's not Alectius, it's Lucien." 

"Shite. I hope no one's sick," I said. 

Dorian activated the crystal. In less than a minute Lucien came on, sounding agitated. "Dominus Dorian? Are you present?" 

"And accounted for." He sat back down and took a sip of his wine. "What seems to be the trouble, Lucien?" 

"I apologize for disturbing you, but Dominus, it's really too much. I have reached the end of my tether." 

"It's not Danae, is it?" I asked. 

"Dan— no, Danae has been most kind. I fear she, too, has had enough." 

"Enough of what?" Dorian demanded. 

"Well…your friend, Dominus. We've tried to accommodate him, but I simply cannot continue like this." 

Dorian frowned at the crystal. "Lucien, _what_ friend?" 

There was a pause. Lucien said, "Why, Arrun Cervidus, Dominus. He said you'd invited him out to the estate. He showed up the day after you left, luggage in hand. With all the guests that have been at the house lately, I had no reason to think— You mean you _didn't_ invite him?" 

Dorian sat straight up, looking truly angry now. "No, I most certainly did not. Are you telling me he's been at the house for a week?" 

"Yes, and I must admit I wondered what would possess you to allow a man like that free run of the property." 

I raised my eyebrows at Dorian, mouthing _who?_  I'd never heard of the guy in my life. 

He held up a hand; _later_. 

"What's he been doing?" Dorian said. 

Lucien sighed. "What _hasn't_ he been doing? He's been running the kitchen staff ragged demanding food for himself and his frequent guests. I've had to assign two people just to clean up after him and try to intercept things he might break before he breaks them. He has no respect for the premises. Just two days ago young Varlen had to fetch me because he caught your friend having —ahem—relations on the formal dining room table. He's been rude to Domina Danae and the staff, and your pets despise him. But tonight was the last straw." 

"Wait, what's this about him being rude to Danae?" I said sharply. 

"He's a singularly arrogant and entitled young man. He has voiced the opinion that Domina Danae's country of origin and lack of magical ability make her barely better than a servant. He also encouraged his friends to treat her as such." 

" _What_ friends?" Dorian demanded. I was still considering what they'd been doing to my sister and getting increasingly angry. 

"I don't know who they are. A small gaggle of men and women who are younger and, if anything, more vacuous than he. As I said, tonight was the final straw. I felt I had no choice but to contact you." 

"What happened, Lucien? Is everyone all right?" I asked. 

"Everyone is fine, though Swivet got a small injury to one of his ears." 

"Swivet? Who the fuck attacked my nug?" I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice now. 

"He was trying to protect your sister, Dominus Kai. Fortunately, she did an admirable job of protecting herself." 

"What was going on that required Danae to protect herself?" Dorian asked. 

"From what I gather, one of his friends — likely encouraged by drink and Cervidus — tried to accost her on the patio. She was out there with your pets, avoiding the whole beastly lot of them. When he wouldn't take no for an answer, she broke his nose." 

I grinned. "Good for her." 

"Quite," Lucien said. "The friend snivelled off to his carriage and went home, happily." 

"He's local?" Dorian said. 

"Fourth son of the Gavrus family. Has barely enough magical ability to light a candle if he tries very hard. Word is they'll be sending him off as a gift to the Chantry soon." 

"Not if I kill him first," I muttered. 

Lucien made a noise perilously close to a tiny laugh. "Well, Cervidus took exception to his friend getting damaged and confronted her. I'm sorry to say he tried to rough her up. He managed to knock her to the ground and that's when your nug intervened. The poisonous ruffian had a knife, you see. He stabbed at Swivet and that was when the little fellow lost a piece of ear, but your nug was able to inflict a rather impressive bite on Cervidus's wrist. It actually did quite a bit of damage and he dropped the knife. At that point Dominus Danae had recovered. She intercepted the knife and was able to deliver quite the rousing kick to his manhood while he was distracted by your nug. She kept the knife, of course, and let him know what he could expect if he or his friends came near her or the pets. I had arrived on the scene by then and had him locked in his quarters. I simply cannot tolerate any more of him." 

"You don't have to," Dorian said. He looked as angry as I felt. " _Fasta vass_! He was never invited and never given permission to come anywhere near the estate. Feel free to eject him with as much force as you desire, and make it clear he's never to come back." 

"Yes, Dominus. _Thank you,_ Dominus. I shall see to it immediately." 

"Tell Danae I'm going to contact her tomorrow on the crystal," I said. 

"Of course, Dominus Kai. If you don't mind, I shall go straightaway to see to the eviction of our rodent." 

We said our goodbyes to Lucien and deactivated the crystal. 

I said, "So tell me — who the fuck _is_ this wanker?"


	56. Interlude (11)

Arrun sat on the edge of the bed, glowering at nothing in particular. His right hand and wrist were throbbing from the nug bites. _Nug bites! By the Black Divine, who keeps a nug as a pet?_ His balls reminded him that they had also been injured by that horrible southern girl who acted like she owned the place. The beastly woman was just Dorian's boyfriend's sister, and a sleeper to boot. If the brother was anything like her, then Dorian's taste had dropped dramatically since their wild week together. 

A key rattled in the lock to his door, which opened to reveal the thin figure of Dorian's head steward. He had a grimly cheerful expression. 

"It's about time someone got here. My right hand is damaged. It needs medical attention," Arrun said. 

"How unfortunate for you," the steward said, that nastily cheerful look still in place. "I've just spoken to Magister Pavus. He said you were never invited here." 

"I was!" Arrun protested. "I ran into him earlier this month and I distinctly remember him saying I should come visit him for a time." 

"He begs to differ. He was, in fact, _angry_ when I informed him you had taken up residence here. He also told me specifically that you are not to be allowed to continue to stay." 

"But—" Arrun looked at the man's hawk-like face and realized arguing wasn't going to work. He sighed. Loudly. "All right, since it looks like Dorian won't be back any time soon to straighten this out. I'll get packed and in a few days—" 

"No," the steward snapped, " _not_ in a few days. Now. Pack your things and get out." 

Arrun gaped at him. "You can't be serious, old man. It's nighttime. And I'm wounded. You'll just have to wait until morning." 

"I shall do no such thing," the man said, arms folded aggressively over his chest. "You are leaving now. You either pack or we'll throw your things out with you. If you attempt to get stubborn and stand your ground, I assure you we are capable of throwing you out bodily. Do I make myself clear?" 

"You're mad!" 

Another grim smile. "Oh, that I am. You have tried the patience of this entire household down to the last nerve ending. Pack." 

Arrun considered shouting at the horrid man, but another look at that face and he knew it wouldn't work. So he started packing, but did it with a great deal of stomping and slamming things about to make his unhappiness clear. _It figures Karel ran off just because of his nose. Now I have no one to back me up._ Out loud he said, "I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding. You should let me stay till morning then we can both talk to Dorian." 

"I've already talked to Dorian. Keep packing." 

"I think I'm missing some things." 

"No, you are not. The staff has been very attentive about ensuring your belongings are placed back in your room every day. They also removed those items that do not belong to you." 

Arrun stopped packing, placed his hands on his hips. "Are you calling me a thief?" 

"I have no intention of discussing how the items may have come to be in your luggage. They have been removed," the steward said flatly. "Are you going to finish packing, or shall I lock you in here again and alert the authorities that you have been trespassing and perhaps worse on the Magister's property?" 

Arrun started packing again. Soon all his belongings were secured in his large canvas travel bag. He glared at the steward. "There. I'm packed. Happy?" 

"Nearly. Now leave." 

"You mean that?" Arrun scoffed. "You're truly going to throw me out in the middle of the night? You could at least give me a coach and four to get back to town." 

"It is merely the time when you've been wont to _begin_ your festivities this past week," the man said. "This time you can begin your night with a healthy walk." 

"I cannot believe you think it's acceptable to speak to me like this," Arrun blustered. "I'm an Altus, you know." 

The steward actually _smiled_. "And I happen to be Laetan, with considerably more magical ability than you. I would suggest you not travel down that path. Choose the one that leads away from this estate instead." 

"Do it quickly, or I may just shoot you in the arse to get you moving." Danae the barbarian approached to stand beside the steward. She was holding a small but evil-looking crossbow. "I found one of Kai's spares," she said to the skinny bastard. "I don't think he'd mind if I used up a bolt or two." 

"Fine. I'll _leave_!" Arrun shouted. He stomped out of his room. The others fell in on either side of him, escorting him to the front door. 

He stopped there a moment, glaring at both of them. "I'll have you know I find this treatment unspeakably barbaric and offensive. When I get back to Qarinus, I shall be writing _letters_." 

"You do that, nug-breath," the girl said, waggling that loaded crossbow at him in a _hurry it up_ manner. 

Arrun made a last, inarticulate noise of disbelief and turned away. He held his head high, refusing to look back at their smug faces even once. The door slammed firmly behind him. Bastards. 

He walked a few minutes before veering off the road to set out across the grounds. _Tell me to leave, will they? I'll leave when I'm good and ready._ The moons were full enough that he could see rather well even without casting a light—ideal for what he had in mind. He was sure there must be a guest cottage or two on an estate that size. At least he hoped there was, because he had nowhere to stay back in Qarinus. 

He'd already made the rounds of the few friends he had there, and even a few friends of friends, sleeping in spare rooms or on couches until they, too, asked him to leave. He couldn't go home. The moment he walked in their door, his parents would have him carted off to the Chantry right along with that coward Karel. They'd actually had the nerve to call him both magically and morally weak. 

The first building he came to was well kept and very securely locked. He even tried the windows, but it seemed Dorian (or perhaps his ghastly head steward) didn't want anyone gaining entry. He headed deeper into the grounds. 

The groundskeeper's outbuilding was out of the question — it was filthy, full of tools and looked like it was visited frequently. Off to his left he saw an uneven something rising from the ordered smoothness of the grounds and went to investigate. As he neared it, he allowed himself a small smile. It looked like he'd found the estate's dumping ground. Hedges and some strategically planted trees obscured part of it, but it appeared to be a mass of deadfall and discarded household items and — _yes!—_ what looked like a house of some sort. 

He clambered and wove his way through the detritus surrounding the place. Soon he had to cast light; the moonlight didn't penetrate far enough. It was an old summer house, paint peeling, most of the windows long ago broken out, wood rotting and treacherous. However, he might be able to find a way inside. If even a portion of a roof and enough space to lie down existed, he'd have himself a nice little hideaway. It didn't look like anyone ever came out here. 

Moving carefully, he navigated through the mess of fallen timbers and abandoned furniture, skirted the areas that plants had aggressively begun to reclaim, and found a spot near the back that, appropriately enough, had probably been a sleeping porch back in its glory days. Weak moonlight shining through latticework made angular shapes on the floor. 

He set down his bag and moved things out of the way until he had a nice space cleared. He opened the bag and went about constructing a bed with the blankets he'd brought, including one from Dorian's house that he'd stuffed in the bottom without anyone noticing. He'd have to figure out food and water the next day, but for now he had himself a nice place to sleep and stay out of any rain. The amount of old furniture and other household bits he'd seen, he might be able to fashion himself a fine little dwelling in this forgotten corner of the Pavus estate. 

His sleeping porch looked out on an area that seemed clearer and brighter than he'd expected. Curious and not yet tired enough to sleep, he squeezed through the partially blocked doorway and found himself on a flagstone deck that was remarkably clear of debris. It surrounded a low, rectangular, tiled depression that had undoubtedly been a reflecting pool long ago. His parents' estate had one; they had been all the rage throughout Tevinter at one time. 

Arrun strolled along the deck, imagining himself as lord of this manor back in the old days when the summer house and its reflecting pool would have been a favourite haunt of the family and their powerful friends. As he approached the edge of the pool, he saw something glinting on the bottom. The moonlight was reflecting off…what? It could be just rainwater, but he didn't see how. It hadn't rained all week. It could be coins, though. _Old_ coins, even. If he found the right ones, he could take them into town and sell them for a pretty profit. 

He stepped down into the dry pool bottom and approached the spot where he'd seen the glint. Much of the area was bathed in moonlight, but for that spot. There was just a dappling of light when the breeze moved the nearby tree branches a certain way. He cast a small, glowing orb. 

There _was_ water there, or at least something liquid. It was rippling slightly (even though no wind reached it) and had a faint glow. He stopped at the edge and braced his palms on his knees as he studied the liquid. It smelled kind of funny. Sweet, but with a bitter undertone. _What in the Void?_

And there! He saw it again — a glint towards the centre of the shallow pool. _Kaffas_ , it _was_ coins, wasn't it? 

He knelt to have a closer look. Even with his extra light, it was difficult to be sure with the water(?) rippling like that, but it looked like a scattering of coins; old ones, just as he'd hoped. He wasn't keen on sticking his hands in the odd-smelling liquid, but he was even less keen to remain poor when easy money was literally within reach. It was juuust possible he could reach them without walking into the pool at all. 

He cautiously set his left hand in the liquid and breathed a small sigh of relief when it just felt like water. Emboldened, he stretched further, propping himself on his left hand while he extended his right arm as far as possible, scrabbling at the bottom of the pool with his fingertips, trying to reach the nearest coin. He was so close… 

He inched forward. The liquid was dampening his knees now, but just a little. He stretched himself as far as he could in that position and fancied he'd felt his fingertips just brush something. The liquid whirled and rippled as it was disturbed; he barely noticed that it wasn't moving in a normal, watery way. 

As he concentrated again on extending his reach, the liquid just below his face _bulged_ and rose out of the pool like a toadstool. The cap burst and enveloped his face and head. Arrun gasped in surprise and reared up, but he had extended himself too far and lost his balance, falling into the pool from the knees up with a splash. The liquid sealed itself around his head, turning viscous as it did. It obscured his vision and dulled his hearing, but most importantly, he couldn't breathe. 

Arrun struggled back to his knees, clawing at the mask that sealed his nose and mouth, his lungs starting to burn as they struggled to take in breath that wasn't there. He thrashed in near-silence, unable to scream. It felt like an eternity of panic and increasing pain before things went black. He fell face-first into the shallow pool, the liquid creeping around him, seeping through his clothes. 

_Feeding._


	57. Introductions

"You're sure everything's all right?" I swallowed coffee, drumming my fingers on the desk. 

"Very sure," Danae said again. "Kai, I fought off men in _Antiva,_ for Andraste's sake. Compared to them, Arrun and his creepy little friends are rank amateurs." 

"Yes, but Lucien said he knocked you down," I fretted, pacing as I talked. 

"He got in a lucky hit and I was off-balance. He did tell you what happened after, didn't he?" 

"Well, yes. I just— I don't like the idea of anyone doing that to you." 

"Aw, that's sweet." I could practically hear the grin in her voice. "Don't worry, big brother. It's not your fault you couldn't be there to protect me. Besides, you should spare a moment to be proud of your nug. Swivet was very heroic." 

"Is _he_ all right?" 

"I don't know if Lucien told you, but he got a little chunk cut out of his left ear. Lucien healed it, but he couldn't grow that little piece back. Swivet seems to be very proud of himself." 

"I'll have to bring him something special back," I said. 

"Like you wouldn't anyway," Dorian said as he emerged from the washroom. "Did I hear correctly? _Lucien_ healed Swivet?" 

Danae confirmed and Dorian grinned. "Well, well. It appears his protestations of disdain may be mere posturing. What about Arrun? Did he leave peaceably?" 

"He stomped about and whinged a fair bit, but we wouldn't take no for an answer. Lucien also made it clear he's not to come back." 

"He'll be sorry if he does," I stated. 

"Kai's being all protective," Danae informed Dorian. "Is it as cute as it sounds?" 

"He's positively cuddly with wrath," Dorian said with a smirk. 

"Very funny. I'm just concerned he or his friends may try to pull some kind of childish revenge games in retaliation for being kicked out," I said. 

"Don't worry, everyone's aware of that possibility," Danae assured me. "If any of them are stupid enough to try, they'll be very sorry. Now go get your diplomatic mission-y thing done. I'm fine, the pets are fine, Lucien's fine, and Dorian's past indiscretion has been evicted with extreme prejudice. You two just take care of yourselves. I'm sure what you're doing is far more dangerous." 

"Don't worry, we will. I'm just glad you're okay," I said. 

"Tell Lucien we'll see about constructing his veterinary clinic when we return," Dorian said merrily. 

Danae laughed. "I'll do that. I'm gonna go now. I need more coffee, and I don't have some nifty magic way to let the kitchen know. Let us know when you're done!" 

We said our goodbyes and deactivated the crystal. 

"Feel better now?" Dorian asked. 

"Yes. I mean, I know she can handle herself; she's a grown woman. I just wish I could have been there to help. Or just to punch him in the head." I sighed. 

Dorian grinned. "Your sister's right. You do get cute when you're being protective." 

I fired a small bolt of electricity at him, making him yelp. "Arse. I know I'm being illogical." I downed the last of my coffee. "Shall we go find Kaeso and find out what he's got arranged for us today?" 

"I fear I already know what to expect: An afternoon chock-full of excessive politeness to a gaggle of self-important local nobles followed by a dull state dinner. If we're very lucky the inevitable soirees and balls to follow over the next few days will be far more entertaining." He checked his hair in the mirror and made a few miniscule adjustments. 

"I hope they're not big balls," I said, causing Dorian to snort laughter as I realized what that sounded like. 

We locked and warded the door behind us then went to meet Kaeso in the common room. 

=#= 

The guards at the city gates may have only asked a few cursory questions before allowing us entry, but the ones at the city centre were quite another breed. The gates remained firmly locked until they had asked their questions and carefully examined our paperwork, and the driver told us once we'd passed through that we'd gotten preferential treatment because Dorian was a Magister. 

Madauros's city centre had been designed to impress. The buildings were tall and elegant, all stone magically bonded with a thin covering of some translucent material I wasn't familiar with that both protected the stone from the elements, and maintained permanent appearance spells, giving the façades whatever look the designer envisioned, from obsidian glass to a slowly undulating river of shifting colours. Someone had overseen the arrangement of these fancies so the effect was weird and beautiful rather than chaotic and eye-wrenching. 

The streets were clean, with raised stone sidewalks. Trees had been planted in orderly rows along the outside edges of the sidewalks. Among the buildings were small oases of parkland with benches and fountains where the water created rainbows as it fell.

"It's a pity only a handful of people ever get to see this," I commented. 

"Those who do enjoy the exclusivity," Kaeso said. "I suspect if any mere commoner was to sully their streets, they'd be summarily executed." 

This time I wasn't playing bodyguard, but Dorian's near equal. Kaeso informed me my formal designation was consultant, appointed by the Archon himself as a special envoy for this mission. 

"What exactly is he supposed to be consulted regarding?" Dorian asked. 

Kaeso shrugged. "Anything you wish. He knows magic, he knows diplomacy, he knows history and politics, take your pick." 

"He _is_ sitting right here, you know," I said. 

"Blame Dorian — he started it," Kaeso retorted. "Now, before we have to talk to anyone, please keep in mind that just because they live in the middle of nowhere is not a reason to discount the local ruling body. They're savvy bastards, every last one of them. Tevinter's very protective of this place, so they don't place barely competent second nieces and nephews in positions of power. You'll see a lot of retired generals and diplomats, that sort of thing, here." 

"With the exciting possibility of a few retired assassins and praesumptor as well?" Dorian asked. 

"Assassins and praesumptor, yes. Retired, not necessarily," Kaeso said. 

"Praesumptor?" I said. I didn't recall hearing that one before. 

"An organization of professional thieves," Dorian explained. "Not officially sanctioned, of course, but they've been around so long they may as well be. All the _better_ class of thieves are charter members." 

"Every time I think I've figured out Tevinter society…" I sighed. 

"We've had a very long time to needlessly complicate it." Dorian looked a trifle proud of that fact. 

We pulled up in front of the basilica and Kaeso hopped out to inform the appropriate people that we'd arrived. I took the opportunity to say, "Sounds like if the Qunari have infiltrated here, it wasn't an easy thing." 

"Agreed." Dorian nodded. "This is no Castra Nicia. I should have looked more closely at that rundown of their top people." 

"Kaeso can tell us who we need to watch. I'll give him credit — he makes Alectius look like a slouch." 

Dorian smiled. "Let's just hope our loyal aide doesn't get bored and decide to liven things up with a little recreational murder." 

"I was taught growing up that in Tevinter that was considered 'Tuesday'." 

Dorian rolled his eyes, but still looked amused. "Just keep in mind this is rather like Orlais, but with better masks." 

I glared at him. "You do remember that people commented on my uncanny ability to negotiate the Great Game, right? And that I have been successfully mingling with all your nasty little magisterial colleagues for the better part of this last year? Honestly, you and Kaeso both act like you're the only ones capable of dealing with Tevinter society when part of the reason the Archon was so keen on drafting us is my ability with this sort of thing." 

Dorian actually looked a trifle abashed. "I…apologize, amatus. I suppose I am guilty of underestimating your ability when it comes to Tevinter. We do enjoy telling each other how treacherous and clever we all are." 

"And how backwards and barbaric everyone else is," I added. 

He laughed lightly. "Oh, definitely, but I out of anyone should know better than to include you in that." He gave me puppy-dog eyes. "Forgive me?" 

"I am rather hurt, but I'll forgive you. I may exact some revenge on you, however," I said darkly. 

"I will take whatever punishment you care to mete out." He sounded contrite, but the look on his face was equal parts sultry and mischievous. 

"Bloody right you will. You'll enjoy it, too." 

He grinned. "I'm counting on that. Ah, I see Kaeso. Time to dust off your Inquisitor skills." 

We alit from the coach and nodded greeting to the officials who were to escort us to meet the governor and his primary staff. The basilica, like the city centre, was designed to impress. Its décor was shiny brass and copper contrasted with dark, rich ironwood and ivory inlays, zigzagging in bold, geometric designs that were offset with sweeping curves and stylized, repeating patterns that flowed seamlessly together with the overarching geometry. 

The furnishings were richly upholstered, all smooth lines that complemented the interior design. The ubiquitous Tevinter dragons were well represented, but also done in that stylized, geometric style. I could see the dwarven influence in it, but whoever designed the architecture had taken that influence and made it sing. I have to admit, I quite liked the look. I may even have gawked a little without letting on I was doing so. 

We were taken from the great entry hall upstairs to what I'd consider a formally informal meeting room. Kaeso stopped us before we entered, looking us over critically. 

Dorian was dressed in one of his most Tevintery outfits, which looked good on him, but involved more layers than was strictly necessary, and their fashion mavens were still preaching that if you could find a way to sew anything decorative into a point, you should do so. I think the original idea was it would resemble dragon scales (which aren't all that pointy, if you want to know the truth), but personally I thought the angularity looked much better in their architecture. 

Since I know he'd want me to mention it, his ensemble was done in royal blue and cream, with subtle black accenting. The latter, I've been informed, was included as a tacit nod to my clothes. I was, of course, in black, though the things I was wearing were of much finer material than my usual sturdy weaves and leathers. I'd forgone the layers and points in favour of something elegant and form fitting without being embarrassingly tight. I'd unbent from my all-black norm to include a grand cape with a deep red lining. I'd actually owned it for years — it was a gift from a friend, and I'd rescued it from storage when I'd visited my parents the previous year. I almost never wore the thing, so it still looked lush and new. 

After straightening things that already looked straight to me and making minute adjustments to Dorian's hair, Kaeso declared us presentable. They opened the doors and we swept through to be formally introduced. 

The governor, Nicodemus Procyon, was a square-jawed man of average height and build with light brown eyes and dark brown hair that was in the last stages of receding completely off his head. His wife and chief advisor, Ennia, was as tall as he was and had auburn hair done up in a complicated style. I pegged her as potential trouble, but admitted to myself that could be because the last woman I'd known with complicated hair had been trouble. 

Along with them we met the lieutenant governor, Desticius Cita (an older man whose most distinctive feature was a beard as lush as Thom Rainier's), General Furia Tarquinius, head of the military unit assigned to Madauros, and Maxim Petreius, head of the elite guard that was responsible for protecting the city centre. Tarquinius was a whip-thin woman who appeared to be in her early fifties with hard, pale grey eyes that warred with the laugh lines to either side of her mouth. Petreius was short but solidly built. Like me, he shaved his head. Unlike me, he looked like he lifted ox carts for sport. 

We sped through the formal introductions then the governor invited us into the adjoining conference room for a more informal meeting. 

We took seats around a rectangular conference table. There were windows along one wall that currently had the tint turned to maximum; I could just make out the shapes of buildings and the mountain through them. Pitchers of water had been set at intervals along the centre of the table, carefully arranged pyramids of drinking glasses next to them. 

Governor Procyon was seated at the head of the table, his wife at his right hand. Dorian was to his left, with me seated next to him.  Desticius Cita was seated across from me, with Furia Tarquinius to my left.  Maxim Petreius was at Cita's right, though he pulled his chair farther down, putting extra distance between himself and the rest of us. 

Slaves poured glasses of water for us as we took our seats and vanished with smooth professionalism.  

The governor gave us a precise, professional smile. "Well, shall we get this started, then? Magister Pavus, I hope you don't mind the informality of this first gathering." 

"Not at all," Dorian said smoothly. "Given the friendship that exists between Madauros and Minrathous, it seems fitting." 

"Still," Ennia said, "I find it a bit baffling that Minrathous would send a Magister for something as simple as a re-solidification of commitments." 

"Madauros holds a prized position in Minrathous's esteem. The Archon thought it fitting that our dialogue be treated with the utmost respect." 

Petreius snorted. 

"And what of Comte Trevelyan?" Ennia continued. "What does the former head of the southern Inquisition offer here?" 

They'd definitely done their homework. 

Furia Tarquinius chuckled. "Really, if we're going to be informal, let's _be_ informal. He's here because he's the Magister's consort." She turned to me. "Isn't that right, Comte?" 

"Among other things," I said, giving her a cool smile. 

"He is that," Dorian agreed. "But if you know his past, then you also know that he's also been a diplomat and negotiator at the highest levels of southern society." 

"Masked fops and dog lords," grunted Petreius. 

Furia smiled at me. "And from those pinnacles of power, you've descended to Tevinter." 

"Hardly a descent, General. I find the atmosphere here much more to my liking, particularly as a mage. But this meeting isn't about me." 

Ennia took my cue, thankfully. "I must say, Magister Pavus, we did wonder if this signalled some new edict from Minrathous when we heard of your imminent arrival." 

"I can understand that. However, the Archon thought it time we reaffirm and strengthen the ties we share with Madauros. We're not here to pronounce new edicts. We would like to hear any issues or ideas for improving and strengthening our bonds while we're here." 

Desticus Cita said, "Think we could save all the pretty speechifying and agree on an agenda for these epic meetings?" 

"An agenda would be helpful," the governor said. "Along with the usual cooperation agreements, we do have some contracts coming up, and concerns we haven't had the opportunity to consult with Minrathous about." 

"You understand that the contracts will still have to be negotiated through the usual channels," Dorian said. 

"Of course, but this does give us an opportunity to clarify some aspects of our position on certain issues that have been contentious in years past." 

"Perhaps the straightforward items could be dispensed with at the first meeting," I said. "That way appropriate time may be devoted to the issues that require more discussion." 

"That is acceptable," Ennia said. 

Petreius grunted again. "More like you lot want to make sure your precious agreements stay locked in no matter what." 

"It was my understanding that the agreements were pro forma," I said. 

"Desticius, please tell the consort to discuss policy with the rest of you. Minrathous is bad enough, but I draw the line at talking Tevinter policies with a barbarian." Petreius folded his arms across his chest and scowled. 

A moment of awkward silence followed. 

Dorian gave everyone a professional smile and said, "Once the formalities have been cleared, how much time do you estimate will be required to investigate your contracts and document your concerns?" 

As the governor and his wife launched into an enthusiastic discussion, Furia turned to me. 

"Don't pay any mind to Maxim. He hates anyone who isn't Tevinter and he's none too fond of half the people who _are."_

"Including Magisters?" I asked. 

"Es _pecially_ Magisters." She flashed a little grin. 

"And how do _you_ feel about our presence here?" 

"Intrigued. I'd love to know what you're actually doing here. But aside from that, I'd love to have a chat with you outside these dusty chambers. I know what you accomplished down south — I followed the Inquisition closely — and I'd love to know the rest of the story." 

"We may be able to arrange something," I said. 

She gave me a small nod and we turned our attention back to the meeting. 

Dorian, Nicodemus and Ennia appeared to be in the final stages of hammering out an agenda. Cita looked bored, and Petreius looked stormy enough to engender his own weather system. 

It was only another five minutes until the governor said we'd be taking care of the formalities in a short meeting after breakfast the next day. The rest of our visit would be given over to current and future concerns that the standing treaties and contracts didn't address. They'd agreed to start the meetings mid-morning rather than first thing; I suspected that was Dorian's doing. 

Thankfully, this one broke up in less than an hour. The governor and Ennia said effusive _until later_ s to Dorian and largely ignored me. Cita gave everyone a neutral nod and exited. Furia said she'd be getting in touch, and gave me a conspiratorial wink. 

Maxim Petreius stood, wheeled around and left the moment he could, still glowering. 

_=#=_

Procyon invited us to stay in the guest wing of the basilica, but Dorian begged off, saying as we didn't know quite what was going to be happening this day, we'd kept our suite in town. He was gracious about it, urged us to reconsider once the official talks started in earnest the next day, and introduced us to the liaison who would be taking us on a tour of the basilica and city centre. 

Our guide — Atia Caelistus, an athletic-looking woman in her mid-thirties — took charge of us. She escorted us on a comprehensive tour of the complex, to lunch at one of the must-see restaurants near the basilica, and on a walking tour of the city centre. She was bright, personable and knew all sorts of fascinating trivia not just about Madauros, but all of Tevinter. She even knew stories Dorian hadn't heard before. 

After our long day of sightseeing, there was just one more duty we had to perform — the official dinner. It was basically a repeat of the meeting that morning, but with food, extra people and musical accompaniment. 

As state dinners went, this one didn't last long. The food was good, and the musicians were excellent, but the interesting part was all subtext as we sounded each other out while pretending we were all great friends. They weren't sure whether they were happy to be visited by a Magister and some consultant appointed by the Archon, and we weren't sure which of them might be a Qunari plant or even up to something else Minrathous wouldn't approve of. 

Dorian was playing up his position as Magister, acting like the walking embodiment of Minrathous high society, which meant he was being suave, witty and a touch arrogant, with an undercurrent of threat surfacing now and again. 

I fashioned my own behaviour to mesh with his while doing what had always worked for me, which meant coming across as clever but straightforward, affable as long as they were being sensible, but using that tendency I have towards intensity to suggest the affability would disappear if I thought we were being yanked around. It's a game I enjoy in small doses, particularly if there's good reason for it. 

Of course, the Madaurosers were doing the same thing. Nicodemus Procyon was acting the perfect host, delighted if slightly baffled by the higher-than-usual status of his visitors. Ennia was cool and witty, visiting most of her attention on Dorian. Desticius spoke very little, and what he did say was as bland as unleavened biscuits, but he was watching us closely, and I suspected there was very little he'd miss. 

Furia's style was quite a lot like my own, affable and quick to laugh, but with hard steel underneath it. I found myself liking her, and she seemed to find me just as diverting. 

Maxim Petreius continued his earlier behaviour. He just barely bothered to hide his distrust of us and most of his comments were thinly veiled barbs aimed at Minrathous, the Magisterium, and anyone outside his elite strongholding in Madauros. When it came to anything and anyone outside of Tevinter, he didn't bother leavening his contempt. It didn't give me a lot of hope that his guards were going to be easily bypassed.


	58. Schemes and Preparations

About two hours after the dinner began, we were able to make a graceful exit. Ten minutes after that, we'd collected Kaeso (who wasn't deemed important enough to attend) and fetched our coach. 

We made it back to our inn without incident. Kaeso said he had some things he needed to do, so we left him with plans to talk the next morning and arranged to have drinks brought to our suite. It had been an interesting night, but it felt good to let that door shut behind us. 

We warded the suite against prying eyes and ears before saying anything important. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, I set to work unlacing my boots as Dorian dismantled his ensemble. 

"So now that we have a moment, what do you think?" I said. 

"I think if we're to accomplish anything significant, we're going to have to exit our most agreeable quarters here and gracefully accept their offer to spend at least a portion of our visit in the basilica's guest quarters. I also think despite being politically savvy, fashion-wise Madauros is barely one level above your average Fereldan dog-lord." 

I laughed. "Even I noticed that. Who ever thought mustard yellow was a good colour for anything but mustard?" 

"And those _pleats._ " He gave an elaborate shudder as he set the last of his extra layers carefully on an empty chair. "I find myself thankful I missed that particular trend while we were down south. What about you? How does it feel to be back in the proverbial saddle?" 

"Not bad," I admitted. "I never minded this part of it. It's all new and unpredictable. Castra Nicia was strictly amateur hour — these people mean business." 

"Which is not going to make our task easier," he admonished. 

"Anyone strike you as Qunari?" I unbuttoned my vest and shrugged out of it, tossing it on the settee. A knock at the door signalled our drinks arrival. I let the steward in and opened a beer.

Dorian waited for the steward to leave, re-warding the suite after him. 

"Any of them could be. You know our personable guide Atia is a spy." He hung his belt over the back of the chair and poured himself a glass of wine. 

"Of course she is. I would be very disappointed in them if she wasn't. It's going to be harder to avoid spies in the basilica, you know." My overshirt followed the vest onto the settee. I thought about taking the arm off, decided it wouldn't hurt to wait. 

"That's where wards and our innate cunning come into play. Do you think this belt clashes with this cravat?" 

"Depends on what you wear between the two, doesn't it? What was Ennia saying to you at dinner?" I threw myself on the bed, bouncing on it experimentally. 

"Mostly asking about gossip from Minrathous, but I honestly don't think she was interested. She was trying to mine more incendiary information from me, hoping that I'm vapid enough not to realize what she was up to. The joke was on her: the more she dug, the less informative I became. If we'd gone on in that vein much longer, I may have had to begin drooling. Did you get anything from your bearded friend?" He finally finished removing his accoutrements and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Perhaps I shouldn't bother with the cravat tomorrow. It makes the whole ensemble rather busy." 

"Like they'd notice, considering what their idea of exquisite taste is. My bearded friend said perhaps eight words to me the entire night, six of which were 'pass the pepper, if you please'." I lay on my right side, head propped on my hand, and watched Dorian study himself in the mirror. He caught that I was looking at him and gave the mirror a sultry smile. 

"You seemed to get on quite well with the military woman with the alarmingly apt name." He frowned and plucked out an errant eyebrow hair. 

"Furia? Yes, too bad I didn't get a chance to talk to her more. I'm not sure how we're supposed to go about rooting out Qunari while we're here." 

"Perhaps Kaeso can find a starting point while we're entertaining the important people." He paused, sipping his wine, "Or not, since we can't tell him about that part of the mission." 

"If we're vague enough we might be able to. Just tell him to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. He's got experience with infiltration himself, so he might know what sort of tricks are tells." 

"He also expects us to go on his quest while we're here. After meeting their commander, I don't know that we're going to be able to just have a pleasant look round wherever we might wish to wander. How's the bed feel?" 

"Not bad, really. Come see for yourself. Do we know where we need to go to start searching for his whatever-it-is? I'm assuming it's in the basilica." 

"That's up to him to tell us. I suspect it will be easier than rooting out Qunari." 

I sat up to take a drink. "Maybe there aren't any. Maybe they've disappeared into the mountains because they're setting up a more secure base." 

He pulled off his boots with a slight grunt of effort. "You truly think we'd be that lucky?" 

"Oh, I'm sure something will happen to make it all go sideways. As long as it's not another ancient demigod with _ideas,_ I don't much care." 

"Shouldn't you add shadowy figures from our past bent on revenge to that?" He stretched until his shoulders popped, "Ugh. Too much sitting today. If this continues I shall be in danger of becoming blob-like, what with all the meals and lack of exercise." 

"Well, we certainly can't have that," I said with a grin. 

"You laugh, yet you're every bit as much in danger, you know," he said sternly. "I believe I may even have detected a touch of thickening about your middle of late." 

"You haven't!" I suddenly felt fat and wondered if he was telling the truth. 

He gave me a mournful look and turned away to take off his trousers, placing them neatly on the chair along with the rest of his clothes. 

"Dorian. That's cruel and unfair. I have gone to great lengths to avoid blobbishness and you know it." 

He turned and smiled at me. "I do know. It's one of the things I noticed about you even when we first met. Look at you, all worried now." 

"And if I were to suggest you really have packed on some weight lately? You're going to tell me you'd be sanguine about that?" 

"I would know without question that you've become delusional, of course." 

"Smartass." I finished my beer and got up to get another as Dorian disappeared into the washroom. I opened it and wandered over to the window. 

We were on the sixth floor, which afforded us a spectacular view. Even outside the city centre, Madauros was pretty sight. Unlike the south, most buildings had some form of magically generated lighting and some of the posher places had taken a page from the city centre, applying lighted displays to their buildings; coupled with their angular yet graceful architecture, it looked almost otherworldly. Not all the cities of Tevinter enjoyed Madauros's favoured status, of course. Its beauty and general cleanliness were more the exception than the norm, but it made me better understand Dorian's vision for his country. When Tevinter put some effort into it, they were capable of some stunningly creative and beautiful things. 

Dorian came up behind me and started rubbing my shoulders. "Copper for your thoughts. What's got you looking so serious?" 

"Do I? Maker, that feels good; you can do that all night if you like." I took another sip of my drink. "I was just thinking about Tevinter. That I get why you and the others want to save it from itself. There's a lot about this land that's quite wonderful." 

"Yes, there is, and thank you," he breathed in my ear. "But those are awfully weighty thoughts for this time of night, aren't they?" 

"There you go bringing up weight again." 

He chuckled. "Then perhaps we should indulge in some recreational exercise to forestall any possibility of gaining any." 

"It would be the responsible thing to do, wouldn't it?" 

"Quite. However, I must point out that you are woefully overdressed for such activities." He stopped rubbing my shoulders and stepped up beside me. I could see in our reflection in the window that he hadn't stopped at removing his trousers. 

He _tsk_ ed. "You really must learn to seize the initiative, unless you'd rather just forego any activity and hurl your overfed self into a slothful sleep." 

I snorted. "Like you don't know the answer to that. The speed with which I can catch up may astonish you. Why don't you do something about the lighting in here while I astonish?" 

I'd say we managed to work off most if not all of that formal dinner before we finally retired for the night. 

**=#=**

We met with Kaeso in our suite before leaving for the city centre the next morning. I let them do most of the talking at first. Entirely our fault, but we'd gotten shorted on sleep the previous night and if I couldn't go back to bed, all I really wanted to do was sit in a dark corner and drink coffee. 

Kaeso, being both bright and unfeeling, noticed this and was going out of his way to be cheerful and chirpy. 

"So what were you up to out in the city last night?" Dorian asked, stirring sugar into his own coffee (I kindly refrained from commenting). 

"Nothing that need concern the two of you," Kaeso said airily. 

I made a skeptical noise. 

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he said with a smirk. 

"Maybe I just think what you get up to here _does_ concern the two of us," I said. 

"Seeing as you're here under the Archon's aegis, Kai is quite right," Dorian said. "Talk, Kaeso." 

Kaeso rolled his eyes. "Fine, play the Magister card. If you must know, I got myself a whore. We did things you'd probably rather not hear about. Happy now?" 

"You could be lying," I said. I felt cross and tired, and this was his payback for chirping. 

He made an irritated noise. "I could, but I'm not. Would you like me to go find the whore in question? Perhaps do a re-enactment to remove all doubt for you?" He smirked again. "Though she's likely not feeling too athletic today." 

"Feel free to spare us the details," Dorian said. "Just keep in mind there is an official reason we're here." 

"Of course. I'm a professional." 

“A professional _what_ , is the question,” I said purely to annoy him.

Kaeso gave me a brief glare and said, "We need to talk about how we're going to find my object." 

"First we have to make nice to the governor. We may even have to go so far as to compliment his wardrobe," Dorian said. 

"The depths to which one much descend in the name of diplomacy," I said, biting back a yawn. I swallowed more coffee. "But Dorian's right, Kaeso: official shite first. So what's on our agenda for these meetings? Or more importantly, what's on theirs? Do we know?" 

"Don't worry, I made notes for you." Kaeso slid a closely written sheet of paper across the table to each of us. "They want the usual — more money, cheaper goods, more autonomy. The military types want more and better weapons and personnel and more autonomy. I've also got dirt on each of them for you in case you need to go that route. It's amazing what your average noble lets go around the servant and slave classes." 

I hadn't looked at my sheet yet as I was busy rubbing my eyes, but I saw Dorian's brows rise practically to his hairline. "By the Black City, this is positively scandalous!" He sounded delighted. 

"I have similar notes back in Minrathous," Kaeso said a trifle smugly. 

"Do you use them?" 

"That would be telling, _Magister_. A boy has to have a few secrets." 

I was curious enough to pick up my copy. Just as Kaeso said, he'd managed to get some dirt on all of Madauros's leaders. How serious it was probably depends on one's perspective. 

Nicodemus Procyon had a mistress on the side and had sired at least one bastard child on an elven slave. Ennia also had a mistress on the side and had a number of financial games going that her husband was unaware of. 

Desticius Cita had been a prime player in an interhouse war in Asariel that had resulted in several members of an Altus family slaughtered in their home. No one had ever been charged with the crime, but it was tacitly acknowledged that Cita had been behind it. 

Furia Tarquinius had killed a superior officer early in her military career, but there were no details on the how or why of it. 

Maxim Petreius was a little more interesting. From everything I was reading, he'd been a ruthless shit and true Tevinter patriot his entire life. He'd worked his way up in the military by being meaner and more efficient than anyone else. As time passed, he'd become their go-to man for putting down slave rebellions and other outbreaks of unrest. He also spent a great deal of time at the forefront of practically every major battle against the Qunari from around 9:20 to 9:40 Dragon. Then he retired from active service and started his own elite mercenary company. They'd been involved in — or alleged to have been involved in — all manner of clandestine nastiness for the next five years, then suddenly he had the job heading up Madauros's elite guard (and just guess who made up part of that elite guard). 

In Maxim's case, the question wasn't what he'd done in the past, but what _didn't_ he do. He disliked almost everyone except his military and paramilitary friends, had no regard whatsoever for the lower classes that he'd helped keep downtrodden, and held slaves and foreigners in contempt. People who got in his way tended to either disappear or have terrible things happen to them. 

I looked up from the paper and said, "I think Petreius is all yours, Dorian. It would probably cause him real pain to be any more civil to me than he already has." 

"How enchanting: a man with the personality and build of a wyvern crossed with a cast iron stove. I'm sure we'll become the best of friends." 

"You don't want to make him talk to Kai just to make him squirm?" Kaeso said. 

"Men like him go straight past squirm into smite," I said. "I had more than enough of talking to that sort years ago. With Dorian he has no choice but to pretend respect." 

"You're welcome to it, Dorian." Kaeso yawned. "I lost interest in that kind of playacting back in Orlais. While you make nice with the natives, I shall be finding the entrance to the undercity. That's where we have to go." 

"You realize the guards here aren't going to be pushovers," I said. 

"I don't intend to push them over. I intend to glide past their brutish backs. If, on occasion, one or two need their throats slit, I'm fine with that too." 

"No tableaus this time, if you please." 

He grinned. "It's a shame, but I promise you: no tableaus. Unless circumstances change so one is required." 

"You know, the worst part is I can picture situations where that _could_ be required," Dorian said. 

We worked out a loose plan based on what we were expected to do. 

We'd likely both be in conference with the governor and his wife, then Dorian would tackle Petreius while I talked to Furia, and we'd have to see how things went with Desticius Cita. From what we knew of the man so far, getting more than four words in succession out of him would be nothing short of a miracle. There was a good chance he'd simply sit in on the session with the Procyons. 

Kaeso would continue to act as our loyal and efficient assistant, slipping away to reconnoiter when his services weren't required. If we needed him, we'd already set up a spell to alert him that wasn't much different from the ones used to alert the servants at home. 

"How deep does the undercity go?" I asked him. 

He brought out a map and spread it on the table. "I haven't the slightest. It's one of those things they don't seem to want anyone to know. You'll notice even this map has no bloody labels on it, so I'm going to have to figure out where in the complex the entrance is. Didn't Alectius give you two any information?" 

"We're not Alectius's favourite people," I said. 

"That's never stopped him from being efficient in the past," Kaeso said. "He really doesn't like much of anyone." 

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you know him awfully well. Old paramour of yours?" 

"You'd just love it if I said yes," Kaeso said. "Perhaps I'll tell you one day." 

I'd been looking over our information packet for anything pertaining to the undercity. "All it says here is the entrances to the mines are closely guarded and Madauros's so-called undercity is rumoured to be vast. For Alectius that's the equivalent of throwing his hands up in the air and saying he doesn't know." 

"Almost as though the Archon didn't think it was something he _needs_ to know," Dorian said a touch smugly. "They have to have maps or blueprints or what have you for their own purposes, don't they? If Kaeso could find those…" 

"We might even find a way to avoid most of the elite guard," I said. 

Kaeso smiled faintly. "Consider them found. Do either of you include making duplicates of items somewhere in your magical arsenals?" 

Dorian and I looked at each other. "We could probably cobble something together," he said. 

"In other words, no." Kaeso rolled his eyes. 

“I can do it the old-fashioned way, with pens and paper, but it takes time,” I said.

Kaeso gave me a withering look. “Kai. _I_ can do it that way. Time will be of the essence.”

“I know. I was just saying.”

Kaeso sighed. "Let me know if you figure something out. Otherwise we'll just borrow what we need and hope no one notices." 

"We will need to be able to slip away and invade their undercity without them being any the wiser," I pointed out. 

"I've a few thoughts on that," Dorian said. "We should be able to accomplish it fairly easily." 

"Do we have any appointments we simply must be there for before we embark on this mission?" I said. 

Kaeso consulted another piece of paper he produced from a pocket. "Formal ball at the governor's estate tonight. Attendance mandatory as it's in your honour. Invites to three soirees on three successive nights. I recommend attending the one at Lady Verinus's." 

"Verinus?" I looked at my notes from Alectius. 

" _Lucilla_ Verinus. Fabulously wealthy, married for approximately twelve seconds some time in the very distant past, arbiter of all things the socially prominent care about for the past two-and-a-half decades and counting." 

Dorian made a moue. "Is she the one responsible for the pleats?" 

Kaeso grinned. "More than likely. Perhaps the two of you can sway her to something less ghastly and dated." 

"You mean Dorian, unless she's a fan of black," I said. 

"That is between you and her. Her soiree is tomorrow night. Once you've put your appearance in there, you can turn down the other invitations with impunity." 

"You do know this mission of yours is likely to take us more than a few hours," I said. 

“Of course it will.  Obviously we’ll have everything in place so no one notices we’re even down there,” Kaeso said as though it were already set up.

"First Kaeso has to find the maps and make arrangements," Dorian said. "And then whatever arises to throw our plans into a cocked hat shall have to occur." 

"I've settled with the innkeeper and arranged to have your things taken to the basilica," Kaeso said. "You may even want to help reconnoiter the odd thing. You'll have a suite there and I've a room next to it. They've already been alerted to the fact that, due to Kai's southern sensibilities, you don't want the services of any in-suite slaves." 

"Oh sure, blame me," I said without rancour. "You couldn't say it's because Dorian objects?" 

"The path of least resistance is the one best taken, my pale friend," Kaeso intoned. "They won't be suspicious because everyone knows foreigners have odd notions that are better indulged if it's convenient." 

"Could we add that I'm allergic to more than one soiree in a fortnight?" 

"Clearly you missed your lessons in basic Tevinter society, amatus. One does _not_ miss too many soirees unless one is likely to bleed upon the canapés or something equally unseemly," Dorian said. 

"Merely wishful thinking," I assured him. "Is there any more coffee?"


	59. An Accord/Party Preparations

They let us spend a short time getting settled in our suite before our meeting with the Procyons. We took advantage of the time to ward the place against spying attempts and discuss the parts of our mission to which Kaeso wasn't privy. 

"So how the fuck are we going to find a Qunari spy who probably doesn't even exist?" I complained. "Insult the Qun and see who looks the least pleased?" 

"Perhaps we should check under their nails for gaatlok powder," Dorian said. "Part of a national cleanliness initiative the Archon is spearheading." 

"We could just pick whoever we like the least and say it's them." 

Dorian grinned. "Don't tempt me. It would be far too simple to do that. Ready to go play diplomat?" 

I sighed. "As I'll ever be." 

We were right about one thing when we reached the conference room — as lieutenant governor, Desticius Cita was sitting in on the meeting. That made me happy, as it meant we wouldn't need to try to get the taciturn man to talk privately. 

Nicodemus Procyon looked calm and vaguely cheerful as we greeted each other and took our seats. Ennia looked prepared to be bored. Desticius looked beardy. Kaeso enquired solicitously if we required anything else and at our dismissal, disappeared with professional efficiency. I rather envied him, as he was going to be doing sneaky, interesting things while I pretended to care about governmental affairs. 

Nicodemus gave the conference room and us a quick once-over and said, "Gentlemen, would you object if the first part of this meeting is done strictly off the record and in camera?" 

Dorian and I glanced at each other. I tried to convey subtly that I was fine with it; he appeared equally amenable and told them so. If anything, I was rather pleased the meeting was already more interesting than I'd anticipated. 

"Right, then. Ennia, would you care to set the wards?" 

She nodded and said to us, "Would either or both of you care to add your own?" We both did. It was not only a way to ensure this really was a private session, but a small demonstration of our magical capability. It established a few things: While Nicodemus and Desticius were also mages, Ennia was the most powerful of the three of them. On our end, it suggested we were at least equal to her. Wards are simple things, easy for even a beginning mage to learn, but with more ability one can make ever more solid, complex and elegant wards. Therefore all three of us were guilty of showing off a little as we constructed them. As a result, the room was well and truly warded against any possibility of eavesdropping, intrusion or interruption. It also raised what may have been a ghost of a smile from Desticius, though it was difficult to tell under the beard. 

We sat and Dorian said, "All right, whatever would you like to discuss that requires such precautions?" 

Nicodemus smiled. "To put it bluntly, we'd like to know why you're here." 

"Minrathous places great importance on its ongoing relationship with Madauros and feels it only appropriate that its ambassadors for these talks reflect that," Dorian said with bland sincerity. 

"Cut the shit," said Desticius. 

"What the lieutenant governor means is we know who you are, and you are not typical of the people Radonis sends to let us know we're important to him," Nicodemus clarified. 

"Who we are?" Dorian said. 

Nicodemus's lips twitched in a sardonic smile. "Come now, Magister Pavus. We may be in the proverbial middle of nowhere, but I assure you we are very well-informed concerning current events in this country. Ennia?" 

Her gaze raked over us. "Magister Dorian Pavus and Lord — or is it Comte? —Kai Trevelyan: Tevinter's most unlikely power couple. Most people expected declaring yourselves a public pairing would result in your removal as a Magister at the very least, perhaps even outright assassination. Instead, you appear to have the approval of the Archon himself." 

"No doubt some of that has to do with your status previous to moving to our fair land," Nicodemus said to me. "We know quite a bit about your adventures in the south. The very fact that they allowed a mage to command something the size and strength of the Inquisition did not go unnoticed, considering their prejudices against our kind in your homeland." 

"And declaring for yourselves isn't even the only rebellious thing you've been up to," Ennia said to Dorian. "Co-founder and leader of the Lucerni as well. You move in dangerous and rarefied circles, Magister." 

"Far more rarefied and dangerous than we generally rate," Nicodemus finished. "So again, we can't help but wonder what brings you here." 

Dorian smiled faintly. "You certainly are well informed." 

We weren't going to be able to discuss how to react to this; though we should have seen it as a possibility, even Kaeso hadn't thought to bring it up as something to prepare for. 

Dorian was clearly gearing up to improvise something smooth and uninformative. 

I hoped what I was about to do wouldn't upset him, but this was one of those cases I'd become rather famous for. Providing this didn’t breach our non-disclosure pact, I was going to break with expected protocol and go with what my instincts were telling me was correct. 

"Considering this is strictly off the record, we believe a direct question deserves an equally direct answer," I cut in. I raised an eyebrow to Dorian, "May I?" 

He inclined his head graciously, expression implying this was something we'd prepared. "Please." 

I looked at each of the Madaurans in turn. "You're correct. In the normal course of things, we're not diplomats. Nor is this solely a diplomatic mission. Minrathous has received disturbing intelligence that hostile elements are attempting to make inroads in Madauros." 

"Hostile elements are always trying to make inroads in Madauros," Nicodemus said drily. 

"This time they may have succeeded. We were asked to investigate." 

"You're fully aware, then, why Minrathous places the importance of our city at the level it does?" Ennia said. 

Dorian nodded. "We are." 

"That's a serious allegation," Desticius spoke up. 

"If it's true, it's a serious breach," I countered. 

"Yet you're being truthful with us?" Nicodemus said. "Most unusual **."**

"As you've already pointed out, _we_ are considered most unusual," I said with a slight smile. "Call it a calculated risk. We'd rather have you onside with this. Not only does it directly affect you all, but it would make our job considerably easier if we don't need to creep about behind your backs." 

"If one of you is allied with the hostile elements, you have a limited number of choices. You can inform your people of the investigation, risking exposure; you can do nothing, in which case you are at least momentarily neutralized and we still may discover your involvement; or you can take some form of action which will again risk exposure at the very least, and possibly compromise your superiors' long-term plans," Dorian said smoothly. 

"And if you're not allied with them, or if the infiltrator wants to keep firmly to deep cover, then it makes better sense to work with us. That way you allay fears in Minrathous, answer for yourselves whether your security has become compromised, and quite probably get extra perks from Minrathous regardless of the outcome of the investigation," I added. "As far as public perception is concerned, we're just evidence that Minrathous is treating its relationship with Madauros with the proper level of gravitas." 

The three of them looked at each other and Nicodemus said, "I must confess we did not expect such a…candid answer. May we have a moment?" 

"Of course," Dorian said. They threw up another ward around themselves that baffled sound. We did the same because why should they have all the fun? 

"We should send out for coffee," I said quietly. 

"You should just be glad I've seen you pull this sort of thing before," Dorian scolded me, expression carefully pleasant. 

"You improvised very well. After all this time together I figured you'd be able to roll with it." 

"Yes, well, it will doubtless prove to be the perfect approach to take with them and I shall be forced to concede that you are still a brilliant negotiator." 

"I certainly hope so. I meant it about the coffee, you know." 

"And yet you deny you're addicted to the stuff." 

They dropped their ward so once again we followed suit. We gave them looks of polite interest. 

Nicodemus's mien was utterly neutral as he glanced at Ennia and Desticius then looked each of us in the eyes. "We'll work with you." 

"Though it was quite unfair of you to use honesty on us," Ennia added. "It may be the one thing no one in Tevinter politics is prepared for." 

"Not just Tevinter," I said easily. "We appreciate your adaptability." 

"We would also appreciate if you keep this arrangement strictly between those of us currently in the room," Dorian added. "If indeed hostile influences have managed to infiltrate here, they will be using a greater degree of subtlety than we've previously seen." 

Desticius made a disparaging noise. " _Hostile influences_ , my ass. If we're going to opt for honesty, just say it. It's the damned ox men we're all talking about." 

It was the longest sentence I'd ever heard out of the man. 

"Correct," I said. "Though we're specifically speaking of their using human agents. When they attempted to invade in the south, they worked primarily through elven agents in menial positions." 

"That won't get them what they want here in Madauros," Dorian continued. "If they want to take control or compromise the mining operations, they'd need someone highly placed and trusted enough to be allowed access." 

Nicodemus frowned. "We thoroughly vet everyone associated with the mine, right down to the lowest labourer." 

"Every system has holes," I said. "Papers can be forged, histories can be manufactured, loyalties can be turned, people can be bought. You all know that." 

"We should have Maxim here, then," Ennia said. 

"No, you shouldn't," Dorian replied. "Even he isn't proof against corruption or compromise." 

"Maxim?" she scoffed. "There's no one more loyal to Tevinter. Not even Radonis." 

I raised an eyebrow. "Loyal to a fault, perhaps? Rabid devotion to anything can be a liability." 

Desticius barked laughter. 

Nicodemus smiled thinly. "You're a cynical bastard, I'll give you that." 

"Just realistic," I said. "Anyone familiar with Loghain Mac Tir down in Ferelden? He was a true patriot as well. Any one of you could just as easily be the one we're looking for." 

"Assuming there is anyone," Nicodemus countered. 

"Agreed. It could be our intelligence came from phantasms and fleeting patterns that consist more of conjecture than truth. But do you really want to take that chance without at least investigating?" 

"I'd say the sheer poetry of that speech demands it," Ennia said. 

"So how do we prove we're not with the horned bastards ourselves?" Desticius asked. 

Dorian raked his gaze across the three of them. "Any ideas? Let's not have it be said that Minrathous dictated the method." 

"Blood oath?" said Nicodemus. 

Desticius snorted, "Not spilling my blood over something like this." 

"Everyone's blood stays where it belongs," Dorian agreed. 

"We could swear by bound spirit," Ennia offered. "If it's one of yours, it won't answer to us." 

"A bound spirit can still be finessed, but if the parameters can be worked out satisfactorily, we'd find that acceptable," Dorian said. 

So everyone hashed out what the strictures were going to be that would make it viable (it basically boiled down to any attempt to contact or report to a Qunari agent, drop box, communication relay or anything else would result in the spirit alerting all the others, to put it in very broad terms). 

Dorian conjured the spirit (he's much better at that sort of thing than I) and bound it, then everyone swore the carefully worked out oath and it was done. We were now working with the top people in the Madauros government rather than around or against them. There was more negotiating after that as we ensured our autonomy would be preserved then we broke for lunch. The afternoon session was going to be on the record and deal with the treaties and agreements we had ostensibly come there to negotiate. I wasn't looking forward to that. 

=#= 

I lay on the bed watching Dorian sift through a veritable mountain of wardrobe possibilities. "Why don't you just wear the dark blue thing? It looks good on you," I said. 

He squinched his face at me. " _Which_ dark blue thing? Honestly, Kai, you'd think some of my facility with properly describing wardrobe would have rubbed off on you by now." 

"The one with the sliver piping." I thought that was very good of me. I even used the word piping. 

He picked up the thing I meant and looked it over critically. "The vest and jacket are fine, but the trousers that go with it tend to bunch." 

I yawned, partly because I was a little tired and partly because given even a hint of encouragement, Dorian could discuss the minutiae of wardrobe for hours. "Yes, well, I trust your judgment. I'd really rather skip this entirely." 

"As would I, frankly, but it _is_ in our honour. Be glad we escaped the formal meal." 

"I am. I'm just not looking forward to making witty conversation with vapid nitwits all night." 

"We both know you're just whinging for the sake of it now," Dorian said placidly. 

"Mnh. You're probably right. Politics does that to me. I suppose I'm just a man of action." 

Dorian cast a jaundiced eye at me. "More a man of _in_ action at the moment. Can't you at least _pretend_ to get ready?" 

"I may just sleep for an hour. You should just about have your wardrobe picked out by then." 

A moment later a small but powerful electric bolt struck me, making me yelp. 

"You are being insufferably smug. If you don't stop this moment there's more where that came from." 

I grinned. "Promise?" 

"We don't have time right now. I have to decide what to wear." 

"I didn't say now. I know better than to stand in the way of your quest for sartorial perfection. I hope they at least have good musicians at this thing." 

"You shan't be able to hear them because everyone is going to want to say they talked to us about something." 

"You, maybe—you're the Magister. I'm just the consultant." 

Dorian gave me an evil smirk. "Yes, but most of the people at this ball know who you are. You don't think there will be several that are curious? There may even be some who want to talk to the legendary Herald of Andraste." 

"That is a terrible thing to even joke about. Perhaps I'll just be taken ill and leave you to handle it." 

"Fine, then I'll have to resort to threats. If you don't go, I'm not going either and you can explain to the Archon how it's your fault that we committed political suicide by insulting all of Madauros society." He gave me a _so there_ look before diving back into his wardrobe to pull out another handful of garments. 

"Please don't wear that purple thing; it poofs so much you look like you're going to float away." I changed positions on the bed, lying on my stomach as I propped myself up on my elbows. I wouldn't be able to lie that way for long without my left side complaining, but it wasn't that long ago I couldn't do it at all. 

"It's supposed to be the new look for this fall," Dorian informed me. 

"It's an absurd look. Josie might be able to get away with something like that, but on you it looks like you're going to entertain at a children's party." 

"Really?" He frowned. "My tailor assured me I look dashing in it." 

"Yes, but I love you and don't want you to look ridiculous in front of other people. Your tailor just wants you to buy whatever's the most expensive or outlandish thing they have in stock. Besides, what do these people care about what's new for this fall? They're still wearing pleats." 

"Hm. You make a good argument, amatus. Perhaps I'll send the purple thing to Josie as a Satinalia gift. She could wear it as a smock."


	60. Dancing - Part 1

The ball to formally welcome us to Madauros was held at the governor's estate. His mansion consisted of a large, three-storey main house with four-storey towers on either side, all in the same architectural style as the majority of the city. Spotlights were arranged to show off an exquisitely carved fresco (heroic figures flanking a stylised panorama of the city with mountains behind it) that stretched above the long front porch. The grounds weren't as vast as some of the estates I've seen, no doubt due to the constraints of being within the central city walls, but they were attractive and well-tended. 

The doors opened atop a low, wide staircase. The five steps descended gracefully into the grand ballroom, a vast space decorated primarily in shades of gold, cream and bronze. The dance floor was of light wood with a subtle gold pattern criss-crossing through it. It was skirted on all sides by an expanse of flooring cunningly inlaid with a gold-and-cream geometric pattern. The area directly in front of the steps had been left clear, the better to direct attention to newly arrived guests. Around two of the other three sides were round tables with chairs. The left-hand side held a bandstand for a small orchestra that had yet to take their places, though a quartet was providing background music. At the back of the room two staircases curved gracefully up to a mezzanine level that partially overhung the main floor. Tapestries of deep red and black, emblazoned with stylised dragons and a crest I assumed was either the city's or the governor's, were placed at precise intervals along the overhang. 

The entire room was lit magically, so while the lighting above the dance floor was a bright, steady white, it was dimmer and more intimate around the perimeter. I was curious to see what they had upstairs. 

"I wonder where they've stashed the buffet table," Dorian whispered. 

"I'm guessing upstairs," I whispered back. "Hungry?" 

"No, but it pays to know where they've installed such things. Buffets and bars tend to be where the garrulous congregate." 

I got the surprise of my life when we were introduced as Magister Dorian Pavus and Comte Kai Trevelyan of Qarinus. I'd never thought of myself as being 'of Qarinus', but I supposed I was now. I noted we got a few hard looks at that introduction, but not as many as one might expect given the traditional Altus attitude towards, shall we say, a non-breeding union. 

=#= 

After the governor and his wife formally welcomed us, we were free to mingle. The first several people who aggressively mingled at us were the curious and power-hungry nobodies who circle at such affairs like mosquitoes. We got rid of them easily by being blandly dull and unhelpful. The true predators were content to hang back and observe before approaching in order to better assess what sort of threat we might actually pose. 

We made our way up to the mezzanine to find both the bar and buffet table there. Elven servers (probably slaves) were rushing with mad professionalism through the crowd of elaborately dressed nobility with drinks trays. The ball-goers themselves were dressed in a riot of colours—though, it being Tevinter, there was far more black in evidence than you'd see in Orlais—and for the most part were a few years behind Minrathous in their styles. This meant a great deal of trim with artfully frayed edges and, yes, pleats. 

There were small, round tables and spindly, round-seated chairs set up around the perimeter, with a smaller number arranged at the edges of the balcony overlooking the dance floor. We got drinks from the bar rather than trust whatever random potable one could snatch off a tray and found a momentarily empty corner to strategize. 

"I think we can accomplish more if we split up," I said. 

"Agreed," Dorian said, coolly scanning the room and missing nothing. "I believe I recognize a few people that I should chat with, and of course there's Maxim Petreius to consider." 

"You think he'll be here?" 

"Oh yes. This is one of those can't miss affairs. He'll be looking for chinks in our armour, amatus." 

"Then we'll have to ensure he doesn't find any." 

"You notice that there were some overtly hostile looks?" 

"Mm hm." I sipped my drink. "Won't be the first time for that. As long as they don't reveal themselves to be members of an ancient, city-wide blood magic cult, I think we can handle whatever disapproval they throw at us."

"I daresay we could," Dorian said with an urbane smile to a middle-aged woman some distance away from us. "Some of the ensembles these people are wearing, on the other hand…" 

"At least it's not Orlais. That alone makes it exponentially more pleasant." 

"Ah, but unlike Orlais, everyone who's anyone here is also a mage." 

"I've survived how many of these things in Minrathous and Qarinus with you? Why are you suddenly concerned?" 

He smoothed his moustache, lightly pinching the tips. "Because I don't know this city. It's an unknown quantity, and I daresay it's more conservative in its views than either Minrathous or Qarinus. The few people I recognize here were none too fond of me when I was merely Halward Pavus's son, and had yet to do anything outlandishly rebellious. I doubt their opinion has improved, regardless of the smiles they may direct our way. There is also the matter we're here to look into. Put them all together and this may be the one of the most hostile crowds we've had to face." 

"I'll keep that in mind," I assured him. "It just means we'll have to work a little harder to win them over." 

He chuckled. "I can never decide if you're joking about that or just madly optimistic." 

I gave him a conspiratorial wink. "Depends on if we manage to win them over or not. Shall we meet back up in an hour?" 

He nodded. "Or thereabouts. You know they'll probably demand at least one formal dance from the guests of honour and there will be many _sotto voce_ speculations about who leads." 

"So as always we shall dazzle them into stunned silence. Honestly, love, I can't remember the last time I saw you fret so." 

He gave me a wry smile. "It is very unlike me, isn't it? Perhaps it's the thin mountain air." 

"That must be it. So— shall we?" 

He gave a single, decisive nod. "We shall. They won't know what hit them." 

We waded into the crowd, Dorian heading for the woman he'd smiled at while I strolled along the mezzanine, curious who'd approach me first. 

_Let the games begin._


	61. Dancing - Part 2

I found an empty spot along the balcony and leaned on the railing, watching the ebb and flow of people below, looking for patterns. I'd already identified a few cliques, but with no context that wasn't terribly useful. As I sipped my drink, a man cleared his throat behind me. I turned, maintaining an expression of polite interest. He was a few inches taller than me, and twenty or more years older, with pale blue eyes, aggressively black hair and a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. His clothes were grey and dark red, expensive and outdated. 

"You're Trevelyan, aren't you?" he said. 

I confirmed I was. 

"I'm surprised you'd show your face around here." 

"Oh? Why is that?" I remained polite, but switched my expression from ‘interested’ to cooly neutral. 

"Because what you and Pavus have done is unacceptable in proper society. Perhaps you weren't aware of it, but Pavus is." He frowned. "He always was a wild man." 

"And you are?" I allowed some sharpness to edge into the question. 

"Mercus Valens. Of the mining Valenses." 

I nodded as if I knew who the Valenses—mining or otherwise—were. "May I ask what you expect me to do now that you've made me aware of the unacceptability of our actions?" I said. 

"Ideally, you'd break it off and return to the south. Nothing personal, Trevelyan, but this is Tevinter and you are not." He gave me a smug look. 

"I see," I said with a faint smile. "And I suppose you'll next let me know that should I fail to heed your warning my life might be in peril?" 

"Some of us take our traditions seriously. I'm not saying that I would do any such thing—I am a peaceable man—but there are those who may take matters into their own hands. You do remember what happened to Magister Pavus's father." 

"I do, and frankly, Valens, I've already had more dangerous people come after me than a collection of disgruntled blood mages, even if they are politically powerful". 

“I said nothing about blood magic.”

“Just trying not to overlook any obvious possibilities,” I said blandly. “Regardless, I'm not going anywhere and neither is Dorian Pavus, and I neither need nor desire your approval to carry on with my life here in Tevinter." 

His lip curled as he said, "You think putting one over on masked fops and dog lords has prepared you for this land?" 

I raised an eyebrow. "I suspect you don't give a damn what I think. Now that you've made your displeasure known, I believe we've exhausted all possible avenues for conversation at the moment, so please excuse me. Do enjoy the rest of your evening." 

I walked away from him before he could push things further, wondering how many more of his type would feel the need to confront me tonight. 

Keeping in mind I was also supposed to be looking for Qunari infiltrators, I circled to the other side of the mezzanine, hoping to find another spot to observe the activity on the floor below. This time two women who appeared to be in their early twenties waylaid me. Though I watched for signs of subterfuge, they seemed to be exactly what they claimed—unable to resist the novelty of meeting someone from the barbaric south. 

"You're the first person we've ever met from outside Tevinter," the one called Petra said. She was a reedy girl, olive-complected with dark brown hair that she'd magicked silver sparkles throughout. 

"The first _mage_ ," the one called Sylvain clarified. "You've some slaves from somewhere down there." She was a little darker than her friend (or perhaps it just seemed that way because her hair was white-blond with artful streaks of black) and quite a bit shapelier. 

Petra laughed. "That hardly counts, Syl. Do they really lock you in prison just for being mages down there?" she asked me, wide-eyed. 

I spent about ten minutes answering their questions before moving on. Petra was a typical noble brat who didn't even realize she was a brat. Syl, on the other hand, endeared herself to me, and not only for considering slaves to be people. As I was turning away she edged closer, blue-grey eyes dancing with mischief. "Don't you listen to those old bastards looking down their noses and complaining. You and Magister Pavus make a gorgeous couple. I'm all for your Lucerni too." She winked. "Can't wait to see you dance later." 

I resisted the urge to sneak off and see if there were any back stairways or off-limits rooms worth investigating, refreshing my drink instead. As I headed to the stairway, a heavyset older man approached me. He didn't object to Dorian and me as far as I could tell; he just wanted up-to-date information from Qarinus because he'd recently bought merchant vessels there. I don't think I managed to help much. 

I made it downstairs and looked for a good place from which to observe. So far my new career in espionage was not going to garner any awards beyond _Best Intentions_. The orchestra had taken their places and were playing some rather sprightly tunes. The formal dance hadn't started yet, but plenty of people were out on the floor already, likely enjoying the informal dancing more. 

I heard a laugh that sounded slightly familiar and followed it to a table right at the back of the room. Furia Tarquinius was sitting there with another woman whose entire bearing screamed _soldier_. Both of them had nearly empty drinks in front of them. Furia saw me and grinned. "Well, if it isn't one of the excuses for this party. Come join us!" 

I approached her table and gave her a helpless look. "I'd love to, but there don't seem to be any extra chairs." 

The other woman looked up at me with a twitch of a smile. "I should be going anyway. Got duty tomorrow." She stood, inclining her head to Furia. "General. Comte. Enjoy your night." She presented her chair to me and turned with the precision long military service engenders, weaving her way smoothly through the crowd. 

I sat, saying, "I didn't intend to kick her out of her chair." Up close I could see fine lines on Furia's face that spoke of a lifetime spent mostly outdoors. 

Furia chuckled. "Lena didn't mind. She really does have duty tomorrow and she can't abide dancing. She came to protect me from having to socialise with the _crème de la crème_ here. You look like you could use a refill, Comte." 

"Kai, please. I really don't put a great deal of stock in titles." 

"Well, that's not going to win you any popularity contests. May as well call me Furia, then, if we're going to be informal. Did you say you wanted a refill?" 

"Why, Furia, are you trying to get me drunk?" 

She grinned. "If you swung my way, you never know. But I'm simply due one myself and dislike drinking alone." 

"In that case, by all means." 

She cast the spell to alert a server and finished the last of her drink. "So are you suitably impressed with all this? I expect you've seen far grander places than little Madauros." 

"Grander? I suppose," I said, pausing to finish my own drink. "But I've seen nothing like the architecture here in Madauros. I'm honestly impressed with it; something about it is very appealing." 

"You mean we've got something over Orlais?" 

I snorted. "Furia, Tevinter has many things over Orlais." 

Her brows flew toward her hairline. "I don't believe I've ever heard a southerner utter those words. Mind you, most of you won't set foot over the border unless there's a great deal of profit involved." 

"I believe we've established I'm not like most southerners." I indicated _another of the same_ to the elven server. 

Furia ordered too then offered me a measured look. "No, you're not, are you? You know, there are many people who are unhappy with a barbarian having as much power as you do." 

"I'm only in this position because Dorian became a Magister." 

She gave a short bark of laughter. "I think you're dissembling, but they're unhappy with that too. He was supposed to keep his real proclivities hidden and help spawn the next generation of little magisters. To hear them talk, now _everyone_ will be pairing up without breeding in mind." 

It was my turn to laugh. "I doubt that very much." 

"As do I. But the real danger is all these shocking breaks with tradition give other people _ideas._ " 

I nodded, amused and liking this no-nonsense woman. "Yes, we must keep those under control and out of the minds of people who might do something with them." 

The server brought our drinks. Furia sat back and took a slow sip of hers, still studying me with those pale grey eyes despite the slight smile on her lips. "Even though I'd heard stories, you're not what I expected, Kai. I am pleasantly surprised." 

"You know that's made me madly curious what you _did_ expect." 

She pursed her lips. "The stories were conflicting enough that I wasn't sure. The rudest of course painted you as little more than a walking sex toy that Pavus brought up here and placed in a position of power, but that warred with the fact that you led their Inquisition." 

"Not to mention I don't think I'm pretty enough for that one to be believable," I said. 

"You'd be surprised." She smirked. "Anyway, I never heard of those backwards mumps down south allowing a mage to run anything, let alone something that big and powerful. But you couldn't be the power monger some said you were, because you walked away from it. Next thing you're up here with Pavus, and from what I understand the Magisterium was getting word from on high that no one was to start up the assassination games again in response to the outrage he caused, officially declaring for you like that. Now you're _here_ as an official consultant for the Archon's office. So I suppose I expected either a tough guy like our Maxim or an officious little prick who knows all the right asses to kiss." 

"Sorry, neither." I smiled without showing teeth. 

"And Herald of Andraste?" 

"Pfah. Load of bollocks, of course. They found it expedient to use that as a way to gather followers in the early days." 

"The lily-white Chantry down there?" She grinned. "Not so beyond reproach as they make out. I take it you're not a believer." 

"You take it correctly, although the Inquisition wasn’t a Chantry operation. As a matter of fact, they condemned us and withdrew their support almost immediately.”

 “Really? We were under the impression they were involved.” She gave me a cynical look. “Particularly given your current Divine was intimately involved with its formation.”

I shrugged. “She wasn’t Divine at the time. I’m not saying there weren’t people associated with the Chantry involved, just that it wasn’t under the aegis of the Chantry. As a mage, there’s no fucking way I’d work for them.”

She laughed. “I stand corrected.”

Having no wish to discuss the Chantry _or_ the Inquisition any further, I changed the subject. “But what about you? What's a nice general like you doing in a place like this?" 

"Think of it as a reward for a few decades of fighting the cursed Qunari. Technically I still am, of course, since they're the only ones likely to be trying anything that requires military intervention here, but they're not stupid enough to try a full-out frontal assault on a place like Madauros. More's the pity." 

"I've heard they've been getting more aggressive again the past few years." 

"You mean since you lot botched their plan to invade the south? Oh yes, they've been back at Tevinter like ugly on a giant's mug. Just as glad I'm not on the front lines anymore." 

"The front lines?" I raised an eyebrow. "Since when are generals on the front lines?" 

She smiled crookedly. "Sometimes your southern shows. I know down there you lot segregate your mages, though they're all expected to fight on command for a system that despises them. Well, here battle mages are elite fighting squads and the best of us become commanders and generals. I was—and am—one of the best. But you can't properly coordinate magical manoeuvres from some safe little war room leagues from the action. You know very well how fluid magical battles and tactics can be." 

I nodded; it made perfect sense. "I really hadn't given it much thought. You're the first military person I've spent any time really talking to up here." 

"Thank you for admitting that. Heh. You want to hear some real horror stories, talk to the poor saps who work in the elephant squads." 

"You mean those are real? I half thought Dorian was having me on." 

She chuckled. "Aye, they're real. Even the ox men give pause when they see a squad of elephants bearing down on them. You, Kai, are not here merely to carry on flowery diplomatic conversations with us." 

I took her abrupt conversational turn in stride as I was familiar with the tactic. Kaeso, in particular, used it frequently and far more aggressively. "That may be true, Furia, but you don't honestly expect me to just _tell_ you what else we may be doing here." I smiled at her. 

"It was worth a shot." She shrugged. 

"We're not working against Tevinter, if that was your thought." 

"It's always possible—this is Tevinter, after all—but I was more in the way of wondering who's been doing things they shouldn't, and how could both Maxim and I have managed to miss it." 

"If something arises that demands your attention, we won't keep it from you." 

She gave me that measuring look again. "You know, Kai, I could almost believe you mean that. If your Dorian is anything like you, I may have to have a conversation with him." 

"I think you'd find he's not your stereotypical Magister." 

"So I've heard. Do you dance?" 

Another abrupt subject change. "Yes, I do. Would you like to?" 

"I think I would. I've been sitting so long these old bones are going to seize up if I don't move." 

So we danced, and to my mild surprise she was not only very good, but we meshed seamlessly from nearly the moment we started dancing. She seemed just as surprised, and I daresay we both enjoyed ourselves quite a bit more than we'd anticipated. We stayed out on the floor for a good four songs before we agreed a drink was in order. 

As we sat at a table very near our original one with our fresh drinks, I finally figured it out. "Combat magic." 

She tilted her head quizzically. "Excuse me?" 

"That's why dancing with you was so easy. It's the reason Dorian and I were able to do the same from the first time we danced together. Combat magic." 

"You're going to need to spell it out for me, Kai. What does combat magic have to do with dancing?" 

"Because we're all trained in it," I explained. "Before Dorian and I ever danced with each other, we'd already worked together in combat so many times what we were doing was practically choreographed. The transition to dancing essentially consisted of toning it down and refraining from firing lethal spells at other people. But I just realized you're trained in it too. Many of the moves you learn in combat magic aren't that different, so it's easy to adapt them to dancing. Just like the moves you use with other mages when the combat moves into close quarters. You see?" 

She nodded, a slow smile spreading across her lips. "Venhedis, you're right. That's why it felt so comfortable and I could anticipate what you were going to do. Who’d've thought, eh?" 

"Something to keep in mind if you ever want to enter a dance contest, anyway." 

She laughed and raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the left as if the new angle was giving her extra information. "Also tells me something about your skill in combat, and by extrapolation, Dorian's. You were able to keep up with me, and I'm damn good." 

"You seem surprised." 

"Neither one of you are professional soldiers. In the normal course of things, I should have left you in the dust. Now I shall have to test him as well." 

"We may not be professional soldiers, but we’ve seen more than our share of combat. You'll find he's just as good." 

"All of which reinforces that whatever you're here for, signing those new agreements is merely an excuse." 

"Still not going to confirm or deny," I said. 

"Didn't expect you to. Still trying to wrap my mind around the idea that your peacock saw the amount of combat you say he did." 

"And came through it unscathed," I said. 

"You weren't so lucky?" 

"One catastrophic armour failure some years ago. Otherwise I made it through all the combat just fine." 

"Ugh. My sympathies. Failed at the worst possible time, I take it?" 

"Of course." 

"There you are!" Dorian looked relieved as he liberated an empty chair from another table and pulled it up to ours. "Good evening, General." 

"Furia's fine, Magister. Enjoying this little soiree?" 

"It's delightful. So very much the essence of Madauros. And Dorian's fine. I'm sure Kai has already insisted on dispensing with titles." 

"He has," I agreed. 

"Essence of Madauros, hm?" Furia gave him a cynical smirk. "Clever. Tell me, Dorian, are you up for a dance? It's an experiment to see if Kai is correct." 

"Correct about what?" he looked narrowly at me. 

"Nothing bad." 

"I'll tell you when we return to the table," Furia promised. 

She took him away from the table, came back several minutes later with a smile on her face. "By the Void, you're right!" 

"Right about what?" Dorian demanded. 

"Combat mages make better dancers," I said. 

"Oh, that. Well, of course we do," Dorian said as he sat. 

"Furia wasn't familiar with the theory." 

Dorian raised a finely sculpted eyebrow. "Since when is it a theory? It's quite obviously fact." 

The rest of our conversation was about inconsequential subjects until they announced the formal dance was about to begin. 

As the guests of honour, we were expected to be front and centre for the first dance. After the scandal Dorian's announcement had caused, we were expected — as any official couple — to have the first dance together. I wasn't worried. We'd already done this several times at various fetes before the Magisterium shut down for the summer months. 

They always started the same — all eyes on us as we walked onto the dance floor, some merely curious, some avid, and more than a few openly hostile. We'd heard all the whispers and comments before. It didn't matter, because I'm not exaggerating when I say we invariably look fabulous on the dance floor. We're good and we look good together and I see no reason to pretend we don't out of some false modesty. 

Furia grinned at us. "Knock them dead, gentlemen." 

"Figuratively, at least," Dorian said lightly. "We shall dazzle them to the point where they can't bear to disapprove of us." 

I stood and stretched. "That's us—changing centuries of entrenched custom one waltz at a time." 

We made our way to the dance floor. 

=#= 

The formal dance went perfectly and, as usual, some of the crowd that had been giving us disparaging looks were actually smiling by the end. Others looked disappointed that we hadn't made fools of ourselves, but that happened every time too. 

We were kept out there after the first dance as suddenly we were in great demand as dance partners. Tellingly, everyone who requested a dance was female (one of them was young Sylvain, who’d voiced her support for us earlier; she turned out to be quite a good dancer). It took over half an hour before we could claim fatigue and escape. 

Furia congratulated us and, claiming she had to get up terribly early, bade us good night. Though we were both getting weary of the whole affair, we were duty bound to stay at least a bit longer. 

"Just long enough to find the Qunari infiltrator lighting the fuse to the gaatlok bomb," I said. 

"Or until I find out who's been telling these people pleats are still fashionable," Dorian added. 

We refreshed our drinks and split up again to cover more of the room. I wandered over to a group of about five, joining them when one of the men gave me a cordial nod. They didn't stop their conversation. 

"You didn't really expect him to be here, did you?" a tall, dark-haired woman was saying. 

"Matius specifically asked him to, so yes," a balding man of about fifty answered. "You ask me, his claims of being a genius are wearing thin." 

"He did make some marked improvements to our defenses," a short, round-faced young man said hesitantly. 

"Yes, twenty years ago," the woman answered. 

"I've seen the gas work. He's making good progress," said a slender, sharp-featured man about my age. 

A heavyset woman who seemed to be with the balding man said, "We're all being terribly rude to Comte Trevelyan, don't you think?" 

Her husband smiled at me. "Sorry about that, old man. I don't suppose you've heard of our resident mad genius, have you?" 

"No, but it sounds fascinating," I said. 

The tall woman snorted. "To hear Icilius talk, he's always on the verge of a monumental breakthrough. Problem is he's been on the verge for over a decade." 

"And I tell you, I've seen the gas work," the slender man insisted. 

"We're speaking of Icilius Pictor," the balding man supplied. "I'm Artorian Sejanus, by the way. This is my wife, Plautia." 

"Delighted," I said. 

The others introduced themselves. The tall woman was Avita Scato, the round-faced man Senna Galerus and the slender one Marcus Ulixes. 

"What's this gas you're speaking of?" I asked. 

"I don't suppose we've any reason not to tell you," Ulixes said. "Icilius has been developing a gas that will work on Qunari only." 

"To kill or incapacitate?" 

He shrugged. "I don't know that he's decided whether to make it lethal or not." 

"Probably because he can't predict what it will do from one batch to the next," Scato said dismissively. 

"I _saw_ it work. He released the gas in a sealed room and the Qunari went down like a bag of rocks while the knife-ear he'd put in the other room just stood there looking nervous." 

"And could he duplicate the results with the next batch?" Scato said. 

"I don't know," Ulixes admitted. "It's a _process_. It takes _time_." 

"And test subjects," Galerus added. "Not always easy to secure a steady supply of ox men." 

"Where does he do these experiments? Would we be able to see any of them?" I asked. 

"He's got a laboratory down in the undercity," Ulixes said. "Keeps his ox men somewhere down there too, but I doubt he'd agree to a tour, even for you and the Magister." 

"Unless he was ordered to." Scato smirked. It didn't take a genius to see she really didn't like the man. 

"He was supposed to be here tonight, but he didn't show as usual," Plautia Sejanus said. "Art, you need to tell Matius. Genius or not, the man is consistently rude." 

I excused myself from the group, pleased that I'd finally learned something of substance. I also wondered why Alectius hadn't included anything about this Icilius Pictor in our information packet. The rest of the conversations I got into that night didn't reveal anything useful other than a few people were thawing toward us, which was nice but not particularly productive. By the time I rendezvoused with Dorian again, I was more than ready to leave.


	62. Afterward / Dorian Practices Diplomacy

I told my arm to let go then set it carefully on my nightstand. Ademar and Dagna had been annoyingly correct that I needed to let the real arm breathe on occasion. I sat on the bed using my pillow as a backrest and rubbed the newly exposed skin absently as I once again watched Dorian meticulously dismantling his ensemble. "So how did your night go?" I asked. 

"I am tempted to borrow one of Cassandra's patented noises of disgust. Did you see how many people were wearing _white_ footwear?"

"Animals." I smiled. "Aside from their sins of fashion, how did it go?"

"Amatus, you got the best part of the deal when you got Furia. _Fasta vass_ , how did that manage to snag?" He worked at undoing his cuff. 

"Maxim was as bad as we feared?" 

"Worse. _Hah!_ " He unravelled a length of ribbon, unbuttoned the cuff and turned his attention to the other. "You know how they say absence of a sense of humour is a sure sign of a dull mind? If that's true, Maxim Petreius has the mind of a lump of mud. Every moment with the man was excruciating." 

"Was he hostile to you?" 

"Hostile. Dull. Tiresome. Fanatically devoted to telling me why I don't deserve the favour Tevinter has shown me. Did I mention dull?" He unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off, folding it loosely. 

"You poor thing." 

"I've suffered, Kai. Suffered terribly." He gave me his best unfairly tortured expression. 

"And all of Tevinter appreciates your sacrifice." 

"No it doesn't. Tevinter doesn't give a fig for my travails. I am alone in my pain." He sat and began unlacing his boots. 

"If only there were some way I could convince you otherwise," I said with a sigh. 

"I may be inconsolable," he warned. 

"I could get you a cup of tea." 

His moustache twitched as he bit back a laugh and looked up with a properly bereft expression. "Tea? I pour my pain out to you, and you offer tea?" 

"It's very nice tea." 

"You are a terrible and unfeeling man." He levered off one boot and started on the next. 

"Yet charming enough that you'll forgive me." 

He gave me a stern glare. "It will take you more than charm to get back in my good graces." 

"Charm _and_ tea?" 

He fired a bolt of electricity that I blocked, removed his other boot and headed for the washroom, intoning, "We shall revisit this when I return." 

He emerged from the washroom several minutes later and threw himself on the bed with a groan. 

"Want to tell me about it?" I asked. 

"No, but since we need to share information I'll recount the salient details." 

"I can offer you a backrub, but it'd have to be one-handed." 

He smiled. "Thank you, but I'd rather wait for the two-handed version. Heartfelt sympathy is sufficient for the time being." 

"You've got it." 

He settled in next to me with a gusty sigh. "So, what can I say about Maxim Petreius. He is impervious to charm, wit, humour and differences of opinion. If anything, the summary that Alectius gave us was too kind."

**_(Dorian)_ **

**~~**

I did not have high hopes for my tête-à-tête with Maxim. Even when considering _têtes_ : Kai shaves his head, and on him it looks sleek and somehow appropriate. Maxim also shaves his head. It makes him look like an ill-tempered Mabari that was dragged through a barber's convention. 

The man was glowering by himself in what had to be the darkest corner he could find on the main floor. I approached him with an appropriately solemn mien, getting a snort and a terse nod when I asked if I could join him for a moment. 

"Good evening," I said. "I thought you and I should have a word, as you are in charge of security here. The Archon is, of course, deeply interested in the ongoing measures being taken to ensure the safety of Madauros and its holdings." 

I got the sort of look people normally reserve for the bottom of their shoes after they've stepped in something nasty. "Think you're gonna get more respect droppin' the Archon into your speech?" 

"I was merely mentioning his personal interest in Madauros," I said, just as placid as a still pond in summer. 

"Of course, _Magister_." Need I say that last word dripped sarcasm? 

Undaunted, I tried diplomacy. "We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot, Commander. Have I done something to offend you?" 

He gave me a gimlet-eyed glare. "There is no foot, Magister. _You_ offend me. I'll give your position the respect it deserves, but don't make the mistake of thinking that extends to you, personally." 

Well, he'd certainly let me know where he stood. "That is going to make a working relationship problematical," I said. 

"Don't plan on working with you. You and that barbarian you threw over centuries of tradition for can work with the others; they'll tell me what you need. Long as it's sensible I won't stop you." 

I managed to keep any annoyance out of my voice. "Are you telling me you refuse to speak to us?" 

"How 'bout that — you're not a complete idiot. My colleagues don't have a problem with you, or at least they won't admit it. I do, and long as I do my job protecting the city centre, I don't have to make nice to people I have a problem with. Even fancy ones from Minrathous. I have people for that." 

"You have a problem. Even though you've never set eyes on either one of us before, and we're here at the behest of the Archon's office." 

"Yep. After tonight don't bother trying to communicate with me. I'll assign someone to that task." He gave me a nasty smile. "Punishment detail." 

"General, I don't know what you've heard about me or Comte Trevelyan, but the depth of your reaction suggests you've been given faulty information." I allowed some of my anger to leak through. He was acting more like a schoolyard bully than a high-ranking member of government. 

"That what you think? I've been aware of you for a long time, _Magister_ Pavus. I know even before you brought the barbarian up, you were working against Tevinter with that upstart faction you and the dwarf-lover created.” 

He leaned forward aggressively. “You're trouble, Pavus. You always have been. Made your own father step down from the Archon's council with your fool antics. You sold out this country, running down south to help the barbarians with whatever cockamamie problems they created for themselves. And why?”

“The rifts and Corypheus were not a southern problem, General. They were a threat to all of Thedas, Tevinter included,” I said flatly.

He snorted. “Don’t see that they were sending you letters begging for your aid. You rabbited because you decided you’re too damned special to do your duty to Tevinter. To the Void with carrying on the family line, eh? Cock’s more important to you. Then you even had the gall to bring it back with you. Don’t know why the Archon didn’t order you both executed on the spot.”

He slouched back in his chair, folding his arms over his barrel chest. “Guess daddy had a soft spot for you still, giving you his seat in the Magisterium like that. Don't mean you earned it or deserved it. You're naught but a hazard and an offense. Another entitled brat playing at politics." 

Oh, how I wished I could turn that smug bastard into paste (as my amatus would say), but I knew he'd enjoy every moment if I let on he was angering me. 

"General, my 'fool antics' as you say occurred many years ago, and even then I never worked against Tevinter. I may have a different vision of this land than you, but I love it and would never sabotage it. I've had a great deal of experience in front-line combat and tactics as well as complex negotiations. I am not playing. Maevaris Tilani is a brilliant and effective magister in her own right and is also dedicated to Tevinter. As for Kai Trevelyan, he's a skilled battle mage and tactician who's also a canny diplomat and he, too, would not work against Tevinter." 

He sneered. "That what you tell yourself when that southern git's balls-deep in your ass or down your throat?" 

I kept my mien as expressionless as a professional Wicked Grace player. "You were correct, general. We have nothing more to discuss, as your mind is clearly made up and dangerously inflexible. Send your representative. We will make any arrangements through them." I stood, said, "Good night," and walked away as though I was quite unruffled. 

**~~**

"Of course, I was _very_ ruffled," he concluded. "I'm not one for schoolyard battle tactics, but I honestly can't remember the last time I wanted to actually _punch_ someone so badly." 

I gave him a sympathetic smile. "He sounds ghastly. I applaud your nearly superhuman restraint." 

"It helped that I knew punching him would just make him happy." 

"Not to mention, would you really want to sully your hands touching him?" 

"My hands are exquisite, aren't they," he said, examining the right one. 

"Surely there are better things you could use them for." 

He grinned. "There are, at that." His expression darkened again. "But I hate just letting him get away with that. Not to mention he'll likely try to obstruct anything we want to do here in the city centre." 

"So we work around him. I don't know how much good it might do, but Furia likes us. If you like, we could consider siccing Kaeso on him." 

Dorian raised an eyebrow as he stretched out on his right side, propping his head in his hand. "I don't know, is it good form to assassinate one of your host city's officials?" 

"I was thinking more in terms of finding a way to force his early retirement, not that assassination wouldn't do that. Kaeso's remarkably good at digging up dirt on people." 

"Sadly, he doesn't seem to give a damn if people have dirt on him." Dorian sighed. "We'll just have to do as you said and work around him." 

"I don't know how long we should even spend at this. There may be no Qunari infiltrators here." 

"Getting bored already?" 

"Well…yes," I admitted. "Kaeso's quest is sounding more interesting all the time. I want to see this undercity of theirs, and since it lies firmly in Maxim's bailiwick, I could see him barring us from it just to be a twat." 

"He would," he said through a yawn. "You know it. You do realize we should also get some sleep." 

"It wasn't me who took half an hour dismantling my outfit." 

" _Tsk_ , in some ways you really are a barbarian, but a very attractive one."

"You forgot charming and frighteningly intelligent. Did you know Madauros has its very own mad arcanist?" 

I could see that piqued his interest. "Really? And you waited this long to tell me?" 

"His name is…shite…something-or-other Pictor. He does experiments down in the undercity. Apparently he's working on some sort of gas that targets only Qunari." 

"Targets them for what?" His eyes were bright and lively now, all trace of fatigue gone. 

"From what they were saying, that's a gamble every time at this point. I gather it's killed and incapacitated before." 

"I take it when you say Qunari you're not talking about converts as well?" 

"No, I think they're only worried about the big, grey-skinned ones." 

"Well, well…no wonder you're getting antsy. Obviously we need to look into this." 

"My thought exactly."


	63. Scheming / Lunch With Furia

"So what have you found out?" 

Kaeso, Dorian and I were sitting around the table in a restaurant a few blocks from the basilica, having a late breakfast. Dorian and I had warded our immediate area against eavesdropping, and the place was practically empty, so we felt it safe to talk. 

Kaeso swallowed a forkful of eggs and washed it down with coffee before saying, "You know the rabbit warren of tunnels under Minrathous?" 

"By reputation mostly, but yes," I said. 

"I've been in some of the dwarven tunnels," Dorian added. 

Neither one of us mentioned the adventure we'd had with those tunnels the year before. It was the sort of thing Kaeso would love to know about. 

"Well," Kaeso said with a grin, "the undercity here makes Minrathous look like an orderly facsimile from a child's playground. They've been digging down here for centuries, and not just for the purposes of mining." 

"Did you find the entrance?" I asked. 

"I found the main entrance and they have it guarded to a fare-thee-well. We'd need a reason to go through and every one of these bumpkins would know we're down there. I don't know about you, but I do not find that acceptable." 

"I agree," Dorian said. "They must have a back door or two, but we need to find one." 

"I know where we start, but I need at least one of you with me," Kaeso said. 

"It'll be both. Why?" I said. 

"I found their map room. It’s not guarded, but it's locked and seems to be warded as well. You should be able to tell by looking at it. How are you at unravelling wards?" 

"I'm not too shabby at it," I said. "I've built enough of them. Dorian?" 

"I can't imagine they'd put too intricate a ward on the place. People still need to use it. I'm sure we can take it down and put it up again." 

Kaeso swallowed a bite of sausage and washed it down with more coffee. "We won't be able to get in during the day; the place is just crawling with people. Fortunately the majority of them are gone by mid-evening. Mind you, the later the better." 

"We've got that other soiree to attend tonight. We could check the room out a few hours later," I said. 

"Are you sure you'll be able to stay up that late?" Kaeso pasted a solicitous look on his face. 

"Excuse me?" 

"Oh, not you so much, Kai." He gave me a dismissive wave. "Everyone knows you're nocturnal. I'm worried about poor Dorian here." 

" _Poor Dorian_ is perfectly capable of staying up past his bedtime on occasion," Dorian said. 

"You might get your hair mussed. There could be dust in abundance." 

"I'll direct it all at you should I encounter any." 

Kaeso looked at him wide-eyed. "You mean you can conjure up a wind? Why can't Kai? Kai, why can't you?" 

"He didn't say he was going to conjure wind. He said he'd direct it at you. I can do that too if you'd like," I said. 

"You mean like a force spell?" 

Kaeso knows magic; he's just incapable of doing any. In Tevinter that knowledge gives him an interesting edge over others who have no magic, since we mages tend to have a blind spot that assumes having no magic means knowing nothing about it. 

He looked back and forth at us, grey eyes narrowed in thought. "Then rather than think of it as weather magic which very few people can master, why couldn't you use a force spell to _move_ a given volume of air? It would have the same effect as a wind on a small scale." 

"Because—" I started and stopped, looking at Dorian, who appeared as nonplussed as I felt. "Fuck me, you're right. On a _small_ scale, at least. I never thought of that." 

"I believe I've done it inadvertently," he said thoughtfully. "Sometimes one gets so steeped in magical theory one misses the obvious." 

"Well, you both can write treatises on it later and give me a credit," Kaeso said. "Right now we need a back door to the undercity." 

"If it's as labyrinthine as you say, there's no telling how long we may be down there," Dorian said. 

"We'll need to seem to leave without leaving," I added. 

"We could tell them we've been called away by the Archon's office." 

"Don't they suspect you're here for more than document signing?" Kaeso said. 

"Probably." Dorian said. 

"So give them something big that'll result in your leaving." 

"Like what?" I said. 

"How about a couple of Qunari spies?" 

I sighed. "Kaeso, we are not going to frame people just to give ourselves an excuse to pretend to leave." 

He wrinkled his nose. "Who said anything about framing anyone?" 

"You're telling us you found Qunari spies," Dorian said skeptically. "In two days?" 

"I fooled the Orlesians for a solid year and you question my ability? I have had untold _hours_ while you two were busy making nice with your social equals. Not to mention, the city centre is small; it’s not as easy to hide things. I look for these things as a matter of course. That's why I'm independently wealthy. Honestly, you mages, thinking magic is the only way to solve everything." 

"Did we say anything about magic?" I demanded. 

"No, but you were thinking of it in every scenario you ran through your heads, I'll wager. Since I can't take your shortcuts, I make up for it by being thorough." 

"So what about these supposed spies? Do you have something concrete or are you just showing off?" Dorian said. 

"You're verging on unnecessary rudeness, Dorian," Kaeso said with an annoyed sniff. "I did nothing to warrant that attitude. In fact, along with this stellar example of espionage, I've also been doing a stellar job of playing your dogsbody. You may want to keep that in mind." 

"Can we please get back to the subject?" I interrupted. "Is this for real? And we can't just take your word for it, Kaeso. We need to see what you have. We need proof." 

"I don't have it _on_ me, you know. I know where it _is_. Remind me never to involve you two in anything having to do with espionage." 

"Can you get it?" I asked. 

At the same time Dorian asked, "What is it?" 

Kaeso huffed impatiently. "One at a time, you jackals. I didn't know you'd want that sort of thing." He blinked and grinned slowly. "So _that's_ what our dear Archon wanted you to do — sniff out Qunari spies. I believe I should get a discount for doing that for you." 

"Then you should have put a contingency clause in your contract," I said. 

"I believe your words were _anything we want_ with particulars to be filled in later," Dorian added. 

"For all we know, your information doesn't amount to a load of fennec droppings," I said. 

He curled a lip at us. "This is exceedingly unfair. You're ganging up on me." 

"If you can get us concrete information like you claim, we may consider it one of the future tasks and make official note that it was completed," I said. 

"Well…" 

"That's fair, wouldn't you say?" Dorian said. 

"All right." Kaeso gave an abrupt nod. "I'll get you your evidence while you're entertaining your peers tonight. At least it will get you concentrating on _my_ quest more quickly." 

"You would have done that tonight regardless," Dorian said. "You did say you'd been after it for your own benefit." 

"Yes, and you're asking me to give up my advantage to help the Archon. The only one who loses here is me." 

"No, you don't. You get both our services and our gratitude," I said. 

Kaeso made a skeptical noise. "Very well. Here are copies of your schedules for today. Not much for Kai, but Dorian, you're to put in an appearance at the Dreamers' Society luncheon." 

Dorian squinted at his schedule unhappily. "And what, pray tell, is that?" 

"A group of Altus ladies who can trace their lineage at least as far back as yours. They've a few very skilled mages among their number, but most of them are just fair to middling, and far more interested in entertainments and fashion trends than magical theory or tales from the trenches. The ones with the little stars next to their names are the ones you should talk to." 

"Delightful. When was all this arranged?" 

"This morning. As your loyal aide I was alerted to it when I would much preferred to have remained asleep." 

"For which I thank you. If you ever decide to give up your current vocation, you have a bright future in the loyal aide racket." 

Kaeso grimaced. "I think not." 

"I don't suppose I could bring Kai along." 

"He's not Altus. Your vaunted status has arisen to bite you in the hindquarters on this one." 

"What are you going to do while I'm charming this scintillating collection of femininity?" Dorian asked me. 

"I've a few thoughts," I said through a bite of pastry. "Either do a little reconnaissance of my own or see if Furia's in a chatty mood." 

"Just remember we have the soiree tonight." 

I grinned. "I'm hardly the one who needs reminding. I can be ready in half an hour." 

=#= 

When Dorian left for his luncheon, I flagged down a messenger and sent her off to see if Furia was available. Within ten minutes, I got an affirmative answer. Fifteen minutes after that, I met her at the front of the basilica. 

"I was hoping we might meet outside of stuffy society affairs," she greeted me. "What say we go into the city proper? That's my bailiwick; Maxim rules the roost here."

I agreed, and one short coach ride later we were sitting in a pleasant pub outside the city centre. We'd both ordered beer, though she'd supplemented hers with a few shots of whisky. She was wearing well-tailored but practical leathers much like my own, except hers were shades of brown and oxblood. We toasted each other and drank. 

"So, Kai, were you just itching for more of my unquestionably agreeable company, or did you have an ulterior motive?" she said. 

"Would you believe a bit of both?" 

She quirked a smile. "Aye, I would. It's what I'd do in your position. It's clear I'm more compatible with you than my colleagues. Which actually surprised me — you're no military man, so why do you get on best with an old soldier?" 

"I did end up in the role of high commander for a few years," I said. “I learned quite a bit about military operations during that time and was out in the field on what were essentially small team missions for a great deal of it.” 

"There aren't a lot of high commanders out in the field where I've spent most of my time," she observed. "Aside from battle mages, that is. Otherwise, the odd one that's truly dedicated to leading their troops and, more often, idiot glory hounds." 

"It wasn't a military position, but I spent most of my time on the active duty side rather than distant policy maker. It sounds egotistical, but I really was the only one that could do one thing that needed to be done. As I told you, I even got war wounds. To answer your question, though, I’d say we get on because we're both practical and not particularly enamoured of posturing at court."

"You got that right," she said with a laugh then looked at me measuringly. "You never set out to have a military career, though." 

"No. I must admit my assuming command of the Inquisition was accidental."

She snorted a not quite laugh. "From what I understand, your 'accidental' command was a damned sight better than many who've spent their entire career at it. So, since we're practical, how about instead of making pointless small talk for the next half hour, you tell me what information you're interested in and I'll tell you whether I can help you or not." 

"Fair enough. I've two interests that appear to be at least somewhat connected. The first is Madauros's undercity, and the second is your arcanist—um—Pictor, I think?" 

"Icilius? What about him?" 

I chewed at my lower lip, thinking. "Just…what's he up to? Who is he? Does he actually accomplish anything or has he simply managed to make people think he does?" 

"Little bit of the former, a whole lot of the latter." She smiled crookedly. "He's come up with some improvements to our defense systems and lift systems to get in and out of the mines. He claims to be on the brink of a breakthrough that will see it possible for us to deploy some sort of agent that only affects the ox men, but he's been on that brink for years. Most of the time, he hides out in his laboratory down in the undercity. Crawls out every few months to say he needs more money, more supplies and more Qunari." 

"I assume he's referring to the race, not the religion." 

"Aye, and a good thought. Too many people don't seem to be aware there's a difference. He also invented a clock that keeps better time. Said it's magically aligned with the magnetic field of Thedas or some such thing. In between attempts to target Qunari, he _tinkers_ a lot. Comes up with a _lot_ of little inventions. Some of them are even useful. Offhand, I’d call him an unfocused genius. That answer your question?" 

"It gives me a good overview. Are you willing to be as forthcoming about the undercity?" 

"We're all on the same side here, right?" 

"Your friend Maxim doesn't seem to think so." 

She snorted. "Maxim doesn't like anyone but his old merc crew. He didn't actually talk to you, did he?" 

"Certainly not. It just about killed him to talk to Dorian for a few minutes, and he was an unmitigated bastard to him. What's up his arse, anyway?" 

"Who knows? He's a contrary cuss. Always has been. Sees people like your Dorian trying to make changes and sees it as the end of the world." She shook her head. "He'd sooner die than change his mind, so you're better off not bothering. But he keeps control of the city centre and he's pathologically efficient, so they let him get away with his quirks." 

"Quirks? That's what you call them?" 

"He stays on his side of the fence here and I stay on mine. If I had to work with him every day, or if I was a member of one of the groups he hates for no good reason, I'd feel more strongly about him. He respects my field record and knows I can and will kick his ass if he tries that attitude with me, so he pretends to be civil." 

"Fair enough. What can you tell me about the undercity?" 

"How about you tell me something first?" She took a drink and gave me a small, challenging smile. 

I indicated _go ahead._

"You seem to be a level-headed fellow, so I'm curious. I understand why you moved up here; true love and all that rubbish," she said with a wink. "I admit, the two of you seem to actually have a good relationship, so who am I to begrudge you that. But I know what you southerners say about Tevinter, and I admit there are things here that are unpleasant. It's quite a leap from moving up to be with your lover to actively working for the Empire. How does a good Free Marcher come to that pass?" 

I considered my words carefully. I didn't need to lie, but I did need to edit any mention of the Archon's involvement in that decision. 

"Well…I may be a Free Marcher, but I don't know that I was a particularly good one. I'm a mage. That means the good people of the Marches saw fit to lock me away, presumably for life, for that heinous transgression, though they trained us well in case they needed us to fight for them. As you can imagine, that did not give me a particularly sunny outlook on the Free Marches or anywhere else controlled by the Chantry. That system did get overthrown not long ago, but the prejudices didn't go away." 

"So the stories I hear aren't exaggerations? I always assumed they were because so much of what they say about us is rubbish." 

I shook my head. "I don't know what you've heard, but it's no lie. They locked us up. They had Templars watching our every move, just waiting for someone to get out of line. If you did, well, they could order you be made Tranquil or even killed. For the safety of all the _real_ people out there, of course. Depending on the circle you were locked in, your life could be anything from that of a zoo animal to a living hell. In some circles, physical, mental and sexual abuse was rampant, and the Chantry did sweet fuck-all to curb it. I was lucky—our circle's first enchanter gave a damn and did what he could for us, so I was on the zoo animal end of the spectrum. I also hated every moment of it. Perhaps you can see why I'd find Tevinter preferable." 

She gave a humourless bark of laughter. "Yet they call us evil. So you admit your being a mage has much to do with your liking for us." 

"Of course. When I joined Dorian up here…yes, there are some very ugly aspects to Tevinter that I don't like, but there’s ugliness down south too. On the whole, I've been treated quite well, and my abilities are both acknowledged and respected. I also like the vision that Dorian and the Lucerni have for Tevinter, so when I've been asked, it makes sense that I work toward doing something positive here. Honestly, Tevinter accepted me in a way the south never did, even when I reached a level of power and respect where they could no longer touch me." 

She grinned. "Remind me to cancel that holiday in Orlais I had planned." 

I laughed. "I'm sure I'd feel much differently about this land if I wasn't talented. That being said, I don't think being a mage makes one intrinsically superior to those who aren't, which puts me at odds with a majority of the ruling classes here." 

She gave me a look of exaggerated shock. "Are you daring to say the magically deprived might be equals?" 

"Yes. You may storm away from the table now if you wish." 

"And leave the first interesting conversation I've had in weeks? Not on your life." She signalled for another round. "You know that means you're treading a fine line. There are some nasty sons of bitches here that would cheerfully kill you for _having_ that opinion, let alone voicing it." 

"I've encountered worse. No matter where you go there're liable to be people who want to kill you for simple differences in lifestyle or opinion." I finished my beer and set it aside. 

"Hah. Some of them will kill you for having the wrong eye colour. What about slavery? That seems to be a real problem for most of you." 

"I think it's abhorrent. Dorian doesn't keep slaves, so that wasn't an issue between us. I also know my refusing to live here because of it wouldn't break anyone's heart _except_ possibly Dorian's, while there is a slim chance I might exert a positive influence in the course of my being here. Anything else?" 

"Oh, scads, but since you could have told me to mind my own business I'll leave it at that. You wanted to know about the undercity?" 

"I'm wildly curious." We paused as the new drinks were brought. Furia took the opportunity to pull out a slim cigar and light it. 

"Well," she said between puffs, "It's vast. I don't know that anyone really knows how far or how deep it goes." The smoke disappeared almost as soon as she exhaled; most likely a bound spirit at work. She grinned. “Of course, there are those who say the undercity _never_ ends. You get lost, you just wander underground until you’re dead.” 

"Does it join up with the Deep Roads?" 

She shrugged. "It might. I haven't heard so, but given all the tunnelling the dwarves have done, there's a good chance it does somewhere. The actual charted undercity only goes down four or five levels and even that's a bloody maze. It's all bedrock, so over centuries anyone with a yen to make a new tunnel did. Only a fraction of the undercity gets used regularly." 

"For the mining, you mean?" 

"Nope, the mining's separate. They block any tunnels they find that might lead directly to the mining operation. That's the majority of Maxim's job, making sure the mines are secure. They keep an eye on the undercity, but it's not priority. Given its layout, there's a good chance any would-be evildoer _will_ get lost down there and die of thirst and exhaustion before they manage to do anything." 

"What's below the charted section?" 

"More tunnels. It does join up with a natural cave system, and void only knows how far that goes. Not many people have tried to find out. It's dark as pitch, treacherous as an ambitious magister, and filled with wildlife of the vicious and many-legged persuasion." 

"I think I'll join the majority and avoid it," I said. A part of me was convinced we'd somehow end up down in the cave system just so the world could inflict many-legged vicious things on me again. 

"Smart man. So if you don't mind telling me, how did young magister Pavus end up meeting you in the first place?" 

We talked about that, some of her experiences in the military, and all manner of other things during the next hour or so before heading back to the city centre. I was just buzzed enough to feel relaxed and rather sorry we had anything else to do that night. I returned to our suite, got one more beer and read a book while I waited for Dorian to finish. If every day went like the one I was having, I could become quite fond of Madauros.


	64. Espionage

I could go on in detail about the soiree, but there’s no point. Other than being a little more intimate and relaxed, it was much like the ball the night before. We made nice to the cream of Madauros society, observed them while they observed us, and didn't learn anything of substance. I was far more interested in what was going to happen after. 

We managed to escape a few hours before midnight, which gave Dorian plenty of time to change out of his evening wear and don what he fancied to be spy clothes. I just changed into what I normally wear. We ordered coffee this time rather than drinks, and played cards while waiting for Kaeso to arrive. 

He entered the suite just after midnight, took one look at Dorian, and snickered. "Really, Dorian? A hooded cape?" 

"Too much?" Dorian frowned. "And it's a cloak." 

"Not if your goal is to let everyone know you're skulking in the corridors on your way to do something you’re not meant to be doing. And who cares whether it's a cape or a cloak?" 

"I told him," I said a trifle smugly. 

Dorian sighed. "Fine, no hooded cloak. We'll just remove all sense of drama from this little adventure, shall we?" 

"If you don't use some restraint you'll drama yourself right into an uncomfortable conversation with that ugly bald Mabari of a general that runs this district," Kaeso said.

“You’re advising restraint?” I said in tones of disbelief.

Kaeso glared at me. “Really, Kai. How many times do I have to reiterate that I am a professional. You do not corner the market on situational efficiency.” 

"Did you get the other information?" I asked. 

He blinked at me. "What?" 

"Qunari spies, remember?" 

"Oh, that," he said airily. "Only on one of them. That one was at your soiree tonight. The other was inconsiderate enough to stay in all night." 

"And?" I prompted. 

"I've got it all securely hidden. Don’t worry — I’ll have everything on the other one before you need it. Now, we have limited time. You both do obscuring spells, don't you?" 

"Kai calls them _don't notice me_ spells," Dorian said. 

"It's what they are," I said. 

"The point is you both do them," Kaeso said. "Right?" 

"Correct," I said. 

"Good. Then we won't have to wait another hour. To get where we want to go, we have to pass a couple of areas that are still fairly active at this time of night. If we can ensure we're not noticed that will make the entire night go more easily." 

I always found it interesting, watching the smoothly focused professional emerge from the surface persona Kaeso had constructed for himself. 

"Can you survive without your staff in the event of a fight?" he asked Dorian. 

"Of course," Dorian said. "I'm not some insecure first-year student, you know." 

"Good. Don't bring it. It advertises as loudly as that cape." 

" _Cloak._ " 

"What about my crossbows?" I asked. 

"Of course. Anything concealable yet lethal is acceptable." 

"Dorian knows how to use the crossbows too. He can take one of mine." 

Kaeso turned a look of feigned shock on Dorian. "Really? An _Altus_ using something as plebeian as a conventional weapon? What will people say?" 

"They are not conventional," I corrected. "They have been magically hardened and enhanced." 

"Want me to demonstrate?" Dorian said sweetly. 

"I think not. You look far too eager," Kaeso said. "Still, you must admit many of your fellow Altus would look on this as proof your barbarian has corrupted you." 

"They'll think that until they're busy sucking down lyrium to keep spellcasting and get a bolt that sets off a plasma ball in their intrinsically superior skull," I said. 

Kaeso grinned. "Why Kai, you sound positively vicious! I approve of this new, more bloodthirsty you." 

"He's just cross because everyone here keeps calling him a barbarian," Dorian said. 

"It does make one feel one should live up to the accusation after a while," I agreed. 

"Of course, if this all goes well, there'll be no need for weapons," Kaeso said. "More's the pity. Are you both ready? You don't need a last drink or to use the facilities?" 

"Are you going to do that every time we set out to do something?" Dorian asked. 

"I might. Does it annoy you?" 

I handed one of my crossbows and some bolts to Dorian, equipped my own and downed the last of my coffee. 

"Time's wasting, Asina," Dorian said. 

"Ooooh! Switching to surnames, are we? How about you two make sure no one notices us and we'll see what sort of secrets Madauros is keeping in her document room." 

We cast our _don't notice me_ spell combination and the three of us slipped out the door. 

Kaeso led the way through the mostly empty halls of the basilica, though we made sure it didn't _look_ like he was leading the way. Twice he warned us to refresh the spells as we came upon areas that were surprisingly busy, mostly with servants (all right, probably slaves) working at all the cleaning-up for the night. They probably wouldn't have cared if they had noticed us, but why take chances, especially when we might find ourselves stealing something. 

We turned down a side corridor, went down a long flight of stairs and took another side corridor, finally stopping in front of a door about halfway down. A metal plate was screwed into it with _Records_ stencilled into it. "I don't suppose you can magic locks open?" Kaeso said. 

"Sorry, must have missed that class," I said. "Dorian?" 

"I must have switched Circles right when they were starting the criminality courses." 

Kaeso rolled his eyes. "Very funny. Just keep watch, then. Once again the unmagical one has to save the day." 

He pulled a set of lockpicks out of a pocket and got to work. 

Ten minutes later he was still working at it. 

"When does the part where you save the day start?" Dorian asked. 

"You think you could do better, you go right ahead," Kaeso growled. 

"Mae would've been done by now," I said. 

"I thought you would have cleverly stolen the key," Dorian said. "Really, Kaeso, this is disappointing." 

"How about one of you stop offering unsolicited commentary and look at this bloody lock to see if they've stuck an extra magical guard on it? It should be unlocked, but it's not opening." 

I grinned at Dorian and said, "All right, move over a bit so I can look." 

Crouching down next to Kaeso, I probed at it carefully. "Ah. Oh, that's pretty. Dorian, look at this." 

It was a ward, but such a small, delicate one it was almost a work of art. 

Kaeso moved aside with a sour look as Dorian crouched next to me. "Oh, that _is_ nice. I wonder who made it." 

"Think we can rebuild it the same way?" 

He studied it a few moments longer. "I don't think we need to worry about that. It should do it itself. All we need to know is the trigger to open and close it." 

"Really? I haven't run across that before. That's brilliant." 

He smiled. "It's fairly common here in Tevinter. We originated it, though I'm sure Solas would have claimed it was the elves. The tricky part at the moment is if we get the trigger wrong more than twice, the ward will shatter and Maxim's guards will no doubt come running." 

"There's always a catch. Is it two tries per person or two tries within a given amount of time?" 

"The latter. There are usually two ways to trigger it, one magical and one not in cases like this where soporati might be expected to use it too." 

"Which are we interested in? And don't you dare say the fastest." 

"What would the non-magical trigger be?" Kaeso asked. 

"A word, a sound of some sort would be the most likely." 

"Or…a certain way of knocking? _Fasta vass_!" Kaeso punched the palm of his left hand. 

"Remember something?" I asked. 

"Yes. Everyone who entered the room knocked softly first. I assumed they were warning anyone in there they were about to be interrupted. By the Dead Maker and his eviscerated handmaidens." 

"I do so enjoy a colourful turn of phrase," Dorian said. 

"Certainly more interesting than the constant fascination with Andraste's tits back home," I said. "Do we need to worry about the secret knock?" 

"Let me just…" Dorian studied the ward again and smiled. "No, we don't. I recognize this little gem. All we need to do is give it the correct flavour of magical bribery. One moment…" 

I leaned close for a better view as he probed gently at the ward, his face a study in concentration. A few minutes passed before he gave a satisfied nod and cast a small spell. It was an interesting one—not a spell that _did_ anything, it was just a lozenge that carried the essence of _spirit magic_. It touched the ward, which rippled green and shut off. 

He stood and said to Kaeso, "You may open the door now." 

Kaeso turned the handle and seemed honestly surprised when it opened. 

"I wouldn't take too long gaping at it. It will reset in two minutes," Dorian advised. 

We went inside. Once the door was shut, Dorian and I cast lights. The records room was vast, filled with high cases and shelves arranged in neat rows. Here and there were reading tables. "Is there a directory or are we going to have to search?" I asked. 

"No idea. I never made it inside. Too many people about," Kaeso said. 

We found a directory right at the front desk. I wondered what was in their records room that compelled them to have someone manning the desk every day. Probably something dull to do with the mining operation rather than anything my mind was coming up with. Given we were technically breaking and entering, we had to forego much random browsing and concentrate on finding information about the undercity. 

"What are we looking for?" Dorian asked as Kaeso started rifling through stuffed shelves. 

"Maps, first and foremost. After that, whatever dirt you can dig up. You never know what people are hiding in plain sight." 

We each took a section and started digging. The first few drawers I opened contained nothing but ledgers cataloguing imports to the city centre in the last decade of the Blessed age. Rather than continue randomly, I stepped back and just studied my section, both conventionally and in the magical spectrum. One cabinet seemed to be cleaner and have trace elements of magic near it, so I resumed my search there and was immediately rewarded. I'd found records from Icilius Pictor's undercity lab. 

The first drawer's documents were prosaic—just orders for supplies and itemized lists of costs he thought he should recover (something with which I'd become all too familiar).  I moved on to the next and found it far more interesting. 

It seemed Furia was right—Pictor had a few grand projects he was working on, but spent a great deal of time tinkering. There were outlines he'd submitted for everything from a shoe stretcher that also warmed your shoes to a wood-and-cloth framework he claimed you could strap yourself into in order to launch yourself off cliffs and glide to the ground below. The only circumstance I could envision where I'd want to fling myself off a cliff involved something lethal pursuing me, leaving me no time to improvise, let alone construct his gliding machine, so I really didn't see the point. I did like the sketches he made for a magically-powered coffee maker and briefly considered liberating them. 

I opened a new folder that contained loose sheets of paper with something that looked map-like. I heard Kaeso make a pleased noise in the background, but left it to Dorian to see what that was about. The first page in the folder had a terse notation— _Pjt. Last Gasp_. There was a diagram of a straight line with two boxes on either side labelled C1, 2, 3 and 4 and the caption L3-West. 

The second page was a long list of numbers, dates and results of the experiment. Most of them said _no effect_ , but here and there he'd made something happen. The earliest success of sorts was _C3-Armek: flu-like symptoms 7 hrs. Elf affected less severely. Human unaffected._ A few months later _C2-Seraz: unaffected. Elf and human violently ill._ If these were his anti-Qunari experiments, that one was a failure. 

I read on:  
_C4-Sten03: Sneezed uncontrollably for two hours. Elf unaffected. Human had sniffles._  
_C3-Maralat: Seizures led to head injury-terminated. Elf had small episode, recovered. Human reported headache._  
_C1-Tallis02: Rendered unconscious for 4 hrs. Elf unaffected. Human complained of dizziness._

I could see why the woman who'd spoken about him had scoffed at the unpredictability of his results. I wondered why he didn't seem to have any interest in including dwarves, concluding that dwarven slaves or captives were probably much harder to come by. 

_C4-Yasena: Died. Elf and human also died._  
_C2-Vizik: Laughed uncontrollably for 34 min. Elf hallucinated. Human would not stop masturbating._  
_C4-Tamat: Bled out from all orifices. Elf affected but recovered. Human affected but recovered._

I skimmed a little farther, was about to set it aside when I saw  
_C3-Senahan: Lost eyesight. Elf unaffected. Human complaining of blurry vision._ (There was a scribbled note appended saying _S-suicided_ )  
_C1-Antaam05: Unaffected. Elf died. Human had brief psychotic episode._  
_C2-Fadik: Unaffected. Elf and human complained of migraine headache._

 _Fadik?_ It couldn’t be. But if it was, there’s no way I was going to leave her to the tender mercies of Pictor. It was dated just over three weeks ago. 

I folded the page and put it in a pocket. I had no illusions that anyone would consider Pictor's experiments cruel or illegal, but felt compelled to take at least a bit of evidence with me. The rest of the folder contained more notes and sheet after sheet of formulae and ideas for inventions. I assumed the bulk of his notes and research would be down in his lab. More importantly, if that was Fadik in that cell and not some other Qunari with the same name, we needed to get her out. 

Dorian glided up to me. "Finding any goodies?" 

"As a matter of fact, yes." I told him what I'd found. 

"You're sure this is _your_ Fadik?" 

"No, but I'm not aware of it being a common name." 

"If she was raised in the Qun, she chose the name for herself after she left," he pointed out. "For all you know, it's the third most popular name among Tal-Vashoth." 

"You're right, but I need to know. If it is her, I can't just leave her here." 

"So we'll rescue her on the way to retrieve Kaeso's object." 

"Good. What's Kaeso found?" 

"Maps of the first few levels of the undercity. I believe he's looking for dirt on local officials now. I admit I'd be pleased if he found something on Maxim Petreius." 

"From what you've told me, he likely wouldn't give a damn. You know, if Pictor could successfully create a fraction of the things he thinks up, he could revolutionize Thedas." 

Dorian leafed through the pages in the folder. "Indeed. Whether that would result in the betterment of Thedas is quite another question." 

"His coffee maker would." 

He smirked. "And yet you maintain you're not addicted to the stuff." 

Kaeso saved me from having to admit anything. 

"Are we done, then? I've found maps and a few other souvenirs." 

"So have we." I outlined what I'd discovered. 

Kaeso frowned. "So you want to rescue this possible friend of yours?" 

"Well, yes." 

"That's going to waste more time." 

"If it is her it's not a waste, and what do you care? You told us you'd been given no time limit as long as they get their thing." 

"Yes, but I didn't hire you to run about _rescuing_ people." 

" _A_ person, and as I recall, you said you owe us a great deal of anything we want. Well, I want this," I said. 

Kaeso glared at Dorian. "I already know there's no point in asking _you_ to overrule him." 

"Glaring won’t get you anywhere, Kaeso. I happen to believe in the rescuing of fair damsels, even if they have grey skin, horns and a height and weight advantage over all of us." Dorian smoothed his moustache and smiled. 

Kaeso exhaled a loud huff of air. "Fine. We'll rescue the blasted Qunari. But only the one. I'm not having a gaggle of _them_ stomping around after us." 

"Agreed," I said. "The other Qunari, if there are any, are on their own." 

"And none of those elves and humans either." 

"Don't worry. I don't even know where they're being kept. I assume they're all slaves here, which means if I did try to free them I'd cause some sort of diplomatic disaster." 

"Shouldn't we go?" Dorian said. "It seems to me it would be far more comfortable to continue this conversation elsewhere." 

We took his advice and left, Kaeso re-locking the door once we'd exited (the ward re-set itself). We didn't see another soul on our way back to our quarters, and after a few moments' discussion, decided we'd best get some sleep and make our plans the next day, preferably outside the basilica. Dorian and I were confident of our wards, but didn't like having those sorts of conversations in the middle of Maxim's stronghold. 

=#= 

We didn't have anything scheduled the next day, so the three of us met at a pub in Madauros proper, paying the proprietor extra to use one of the private rooms at the back. Dorian and I got there before Kaeso, who claimed to have extra things to do in town first. 

"You know, I think I could do well in a career in espionage," Dorian mused. "It's far more interesting than diplomacy." 

"Told you the diplomacy thing gets old fast," I said. "Then you wonder why I drank so much towards the end of the Inquisition." 

"You're drinking now," he just had to point out. 

"It's different. I don't feel like I _need_ to. I can easily have a few drinks here and stop. I wonder what Fadik was doing up here, of all places." 

"If it is your Fadik. Remember, in her notes, she kept referencing _MAD_. How much do you want to bet that stands for Madauros?" 

"You think she was after the same thing Kaeso's after?" 

Dorian shrugged. "It's certainly possible. Or perhaps they have a vast cavern full of mysterious obelisks and treasures to tempt rash adventurers with." 

"Guarded by something large, ancient and ill-tempered, no doubt." 

We continued in that vein until Kaeso showed up looking pleased with himself. 

"What's got _you_ looking like the proverbial cat that ate the canary?" Dorian asked. "Was there a live murder exposition in the town square we weren't aware of?" 

"Nothing that grand." He accepted his drink from the server and took a sip. "Mm. Smooth, tangy, yet capable of stripping paint. I approve. I have found out _secrets_ , gentlemen, and they are juicy ones." 

"I can see you're bursting to tell someone, so what are they?" I said, affecting boredom. 

"You scoff, but I shall tell you one just to demonstrate the quality. You know your ultra-patriotic, Tevinter-loving, foreigner-hating general Maxim Petreius?" 

"I believe we're vaguely acquainted," Dorian said. 

"Back in his distant, murky past our Maxim had a wife." 

"The idea that someone would marry that is unsettling enough," I said. 

"Well, as you might suspect, it didn't last. It was an arranged thing, and the most interesting bit is, the girl wasn't Tevinter. She was a mage from an Antivan merchant family. I expect they thought they were helping her, sending her to the only country in Thedas that _likes_ mages." 

"Does that happen frequently?" I asked.  
  
"Not frequently, given our reputation, but it does happen," Dorian said. 

Kaeso cleared his throat. "If I may continue? Good. Shockingly, the marriage didn't produce offspring. Then, less than a year after his wedding day, Maxim came home from one of his many campaigns to find naught in his house but a _dear Maxim_ note. Seems she'd had enough of him and run off.” 

“What a surprise,” Dorian said.

Kaeso grinned. “Oh, it gets better. She absconded with a man from Ferelden, who was one of the household slaves. They'd also taken all his money in order to make good their escape to the south. Maxim sent someone to track them down. He got back a report some months later that the two of them had settled down happily in an undisclosed area and were expecting their first child.”

“Which means…” I said with a smirk.

“Exactly! It was Maxim that was firing an unloaded slingshot. The tracker also never returned to Tevinter, probably rightly assuming that the general wasn't above killing the messenger." 

"Is this common knowledge?" Dorian looked nearly as pleased as Kaeso. 

"Never common, but certainly made the rounds back when it happened. Since then, Maxim's tried to bury it and been surprisingly successful. I don't think he'd be happy if it got back in the rumour mill." 

“How unhappy do you suppose he’d be?” Dorian was smiling faintly.

“Let’s save that in case we need it later, love,” I said. "Now Kaeso, if you want us to get to your job, we need to wrap things up with our official visit. Do you have the information on those agents?" 

"Of course I do." He snorted and turned to Dorian. "Is he this demanding when the two of you are fucking?" 

"Are you curious because you dream incessantly of being a participant?" Dorian shot back with an expression of amused pity. 

"Neither one of you would be able to keep up with me," Kaeso said with a confident leer. "Anyway, here's what I was able to get on short notice on your Qunari sympathisers. You'll note that Thing A is sloppier in general, making him easier to find out in the first place, but Thing B takes such lovely detailed notes she's actually given us more to hang her with." He produced two packages from a large bag he'd set beside his chair. 

I have to hand it to him—he may prefer murder, but he's brilliant at digging up dirt on people. He'd assembled a compendium on each agent consisting of damning letters, timelines, notes (many of which he had to have stolen from their quarters and other supposedly secure places). 

_Thing A_ , as Kaeso called him, was a forty-two-year-old transportation supervisor for the mining operation named Anselm Ecdicius. He was originally from a town on the Nocen coast that neither Dorian nor Kaeso had ever heard of. It was unclear when he might have converted to the Qun, but from the familiarity evident in his encrypted notes, it had been a long time. 

"Didn't they vet these people?" Dorian frowned at the sheaf of notes he was reading. 

"Exhaustively," Kaeso said. 

"Then how do you manage to find this stuff when they can't?" I asked. 

"I'm hardly going to tell you that," he said. "But it helps to have no moral compass and be exponentially smarter than the average bureaucrat." 

"Are you sure you didn't just make some of this up?" Dorian said. 

Kaeso snorted. "Please. Where's the fun in that? Any ignorant twat can make this _kaffas_ up." 

I listened to them with half an ear while I read. Ecdicius had been quietly diverting supplies and equipment from the mine to _somewhere_ in unnoticeable dribs and drabs for nearly half a year. There was evidence that he'd also been providing scheduling and inventory information to an outside entity. He started doing all this shortly before the Qunari had left their known base and disappeared deeper into the mountains. 

The information Kaeso had collected was sketchy but damning. Ecdicius was a sloppy and sporadic note-taker, but he made up for it by writing too much information when he did make notes. At least two of his contacts were named in them, and that was only at a cursory glance. 

_Thing B_ was a twenty-eight-year-old woman named Ines Amphion who, ironically, worked in the records office we'd just broken into. She'd been methodically tampering with maps, city records and maker only knows what else in order to hide — if I was reading it correctly — the building of a road leading to a separate, secret entrance to the mines. What she'd pulled off was incredible, as it was right under the noses of the Madauros government (including Maxim Petreius, I noted with satisfaction). 

She hadn't, however, counted on Kaeso, who'd managed to find her private documents. She'd engineered something incredible, all right, but in order to coordinate all the intricate details, she'd kept detailed notes on every step she took. All we needed to do was put a big, pretty bow around the packets of information and deliver them to the governor.

She was also the one who’d been at the soiree earlier, apparently, though I didn’t remember meeting her. 

"Impressive as usual," I said. “I still don’t see how you got all this information this quickly.”

Dorian gave Kaeso a calculating look. “Perhaps his knowing he needed to come here some weeks ago had something to do with it. He did tell us he does this dirt-digging as a matter of course.”

Kaeso scowled at him. “Well, aren’t you a clever one.”

I said, “I should have guessed. Dorian, you’re brilliant.”

Dorian smiled. “Of course I am. There’s no way he could have gotten this much information in two days.”

“If you pat yourself on the back any harder, you’ll give yourself bruises,” Kaeso groused. “Fine, yes, I had some preliminary work done. It _is_ what you need, yes?”

“It’s exactly what we need,” I assured him.   

Dorian nodded. "This should satisfy everyone, or at least give them a jumping-off point." 

"If I'm interpreting this correctly, they're likely to find a number of Qunari have penetrated the mine itself," I said. 

"It certainly looks that way," Dorian agreed. "If so, this is the deepest foray they've ever managed into Madauros territory. Kaeso, you may have just saved Tevinter from a crippling attack on our resources." 

"If it will get you moving on _my_ job, then good," Kaeso said, his momentary pique seemingly forgotten. 

"That's the entirety of your opinion?" Dorian looked both amused and appalled. 

"If they want to give me a medal, I'll take it. Right now I need that object," he said testily. 

I yawned. "Your object isn't going anywhere." 

"You don't know that," he snapped. "There could be any number of people after it." 

Once we'd pored over both packets of evidence we spent some time planning how we were going to go about getting into the undercity and on the track of both Kaeso's object and Fadik. 

Entry into the undercity was strictly limited, but there was a service entrance for transporting goods and the occasional prisoner back and forth. If we could slip in that way with no one noticing, we were confident we could handle anything in the undercity itself.

"So we need to be seen leaving when in actuality we don't," Dorian stroked his moustache thoughtfully.

"That's easy enough. Three people about the same size and a few good spells," I said with a shrug. "As long as we don't give them any reason to doubt what they're seeing, that is. If we layer our perception spells again, that part should be a piece of cake."

While we were in town, we arranged to have our things stored at a non-descript facility under one of Kaeso's aliases (since he was the only one who had aliases constructed and ready to use). We assumed we'd be able to find most anything we needed in the undercity, so didn't put a great deal of effort into getting supplies beyond simple things like an extra water flask each. 

We had a good dinner and didn’t do much of anything else all night, just played cards and tried to get to bed earlier. We didn’t know exactly how the next day was going to play out, but it could turn out to be a long one. 

All we had to do was present the evidence to the governor and his people, send the last of the signed documents off to Minrathous, and we were free to begin Kaeso's grand quest.


	65. Part 8 - Section 2: Madauros/The Undercity

**_Leave-Taking/Welcome to the Undercity_ **

"This is…most disturbing," Governor Procyon said. He'd read all our evidence, passing it on to his wife and lieutenant governor Cita as he finished each bit. "I know Ines. Had to consult with her on a sewer line project last year. She's never given any indication that she sympathizes with the Qunari."

"If she's Tallis, she wouldn't," I said. "They're well-trained." 

"You're quite sure this information hasn't been manufactured?" 

"As sure as we can be, yes," Dorian said. "Though rather than swooping down on them immediately, you may want to observe them until you’re satisfied the information is correct." 

"Indeed. Damn," Procyon said. 

"Don't get Nicodemus wrong — we appreciate this," Ennia said. "It's just disappointing, finding traitors so close to home." 

Procyon grimaced. "Particularly something on this large a scale. We'll need to coordinate troops to take these bastards out if this information is accurate." 

“Not to mention determine how this happened,” Cita rumbled. “Someone not only dropped the ball — they kicked it down the side of the damn mountain.” 

The Governor looked from Dorian to me. "We'll be able to take it from here. You don't need to trouble Minrathous with the details." 

"Of course. We understand," Dorian said smoothly. 

"This is a Madauros matter; we wouldn't dream of interfering in your handling of it," I added. 

Procyon's relief was palpable.  At best what we’d given him was embarrassing to him and his government. At worst it was terrifying. If everything was true, it was an unforgiveable security breach, and heads might literally roll because of it. It didn’t break my heart that the main head likely to be on the chopping block was that of Maxim Petreius, since both Qunari agents had been operating in the area under his purview.

If Procyon could effectively handle the situation, presenting it to Minrathous successfully wrapped up with a pretty bow and all the loose ends snipped, it would go a long way toward saving himself and his people. I expected once we left there were going to be quite a few frantic meetings and planning sessions launching straight into urgent implementation.

"Excellent. I'm pleased you agree. I assure you Madauros will see to it that the ox men _and_ their agents are neutralized." 

"Minrathous has utmost faith in you," Dorian assured him. “We trust you will also ensure that Minrathous is kept abreast of all developments. Otherwise they may misinterpret silence as compromise or worse.”

“Of course. Rest assured Minrathous will be kept well informed.”

“Don’t be afraid to request aid if you need it. We don’t know the size of the Qunari force, and there’s no shame in ensuring they’re outnumbered,” I said.

“Duly noted,” Procyon said.

"Excellent,” Dorian said. “In that case, it would seem we have concluded our business here, unless you had something else you wish addressed?" 

"You have your treaties and we have our traitors. I'd think that covers it," Cita said. The other two nodded. 

"Then perhaps we should finalize everything and say our farewells." 

"Certainly. We don't want to keep you, though you're welcome to stay in town and see what Madauros has to offer. Perhaps some of your compatriots in Qarinus and Minrathous could be persuaded to visit," said Procyon. 

"We may do just that," I said. "What we've seen of Madauros has favourably impressed us." 

I don't need to go into detail about the next while. It was all just diplomatic formalities leading up to our officially departing the city centre. They held an informal (read: semi-formal) late luncheon for us. Really, it was one last chance for anyone of the twenty or so people there to get word to Minrathous about whatever concerned them. 

True to his promise, Maxim was nowhere to be seen, but sent one of his underlings to gather information and make official statements for him.  He had no idea yet that the Governor was going to have questions for him about how a plot on the grand scale this one appeared to be could have been implemented on his watch. 

Furia was there and spent a great deal of time talking to us, going so far as to invite us to visit her at her own home when we had an opportunity. We assured her we'd like that, though when we could make it wasn't something we could predict.

As evening fell, we’d finally said all our official and unofficial goodbyes. 

We went back to our quarters one last time to change from our formal wear into travelling gear.

“Well, that was a refreshingly swift resolution,” Dorian said as he laced up his boots. “Alarmingly swift, really.”

“Worried it’s a portent of disasters to come?” I fastened a thick leather belt around my waist. It was equipped with straps to hold my two handheld crossbows.

“You can’t blame me for mistrusting anything going so easily.”

“I don’t.” I laughed. “I do like that Maxim’s suddenly going to have a lot to answer for. Both the Qunari spies were in his bailiwick.”

Dorian grinned. “I would enjoy invisibly observing that hearing. If they’re sufficiently angry, they could even have him executed, which, though I know it sounds terrible, wouldn't break my heart.”

“If nothing else, I don’t know that he’ll be allowed to keep his cushy job.” I checked that my hunting knife was secured in its sheath, which was in turn secured at the back of my coat.

Dorian stopped in the middle of buckling a similarly heavy belt around his own waist. “Amatus, you do realize chances are excellent that we’ve made ourselves a serious enemy.”

“He already hated us.”

“No, he hated us in the same way he hates everyone. After this, you realize rather than look at how he let this happen, he’ll likely blame and hate us on a deep and personal level.”

I sighed. “You’re right, of course. The fact is, though, he did fuck up and he’s going to have to answer for it. I don’t see that there’s much we can do about it.”

Dorian finished buckling the belt and affixed the pouch containing his lyrium bottles to it. “I know. But it’s something we might want to remain aware of. He strikes me as the type that relishes revenge.”

“I’m sure he is. At least in the short term, he’s going to have more pressing problems. With any luck, they’ll send him to prison or something else that’ll keep him from following through with any ideas he might have.”

“You don’t think after some introspection, reason will prevail and he’ll become a better man?”

“Oh, yes. Shortly after the Chantry elects a mage Divine and the Qun decides they’ve been wrong all along and espouses individual freedom as their new philosophy.”

We answered a knock on the door. Kaeso entered, now dressed in sturdy weaves and leathers not unlike my own, though in an Antivan cut. I could see at least three sheathed knives on him and was sure he had more equipped.

“Are we ready?” he said brightly and looked us over as if he were deciding which one of us to buy. “Dorian. Is that supposed to be armour?”

“It’s not only supposed to be; it is armour,” Dorian said as he tightened the last buckle.

“Is there a reason you have shiny bits of metal stuck all over it? Kai doesn’t have shiny bits of metal stuck on his, and his looks like it might actually fend off something more dangerous than an angry elf child.”

“Your taunts are as nothing to me,” Dorian said, loftily. “The shiny bits complement my combat style. I dazzle as well as devastate. The armour is light to allow maximum movement and flow.”

“Ah.” He turned to me. “Kai? Don’t you need to _flow_ too?”

I smiled. “I sacrificed some flow when I switched to heavier armour. Don’t let it worry you.”

“I’m not worried, I’m just trying to figure out how these preferences of yours translate in the bedroom. Do you _dazzle_ Kai with little light shows when you’re sucking his cock, Dorian? When you ejaculate is it accompanied by a glittering rainbow?”

“I dazzle all with my mere presence, Kaeso, and you should know by now I won’t take your bait. I am imperturbable,” Dorian said, spinning his staff with a little flourish before securing it in its harness.

“And yet you’re probably both thinking about it now,” Kaeso said with a smirk. “So. Are we ready? Can we finally begin the _important_ part of this trip?”

We sent our things on to the storage facility and put our plan into action. Step one had been to request we be able to make a quiet departure without any fanfare, something the governor was happy to oblige us. We walked down an empty hallway toward the exit, Kaeso several paces in the lead. I stayed next to Dorian.

“That’s the new armour?” I hadn’t gotten a look at it, they’d delivered it so close to our departure.

“Yes. I think it turned out well.” He cast a brief web of electricity around himself and the armour glinted.

“It looks good, but Kaeso did have an intelligent observation in the middle of all that. Are you sure it’s hardened enough?”

He gave me an indulgent smile. “Amatus, I understand why you worry, but it’s fine.”

“Have you used that armourer before? Remember, Kaeso’s information implied combat and you haven’t had time to test it.”

“I haven’t used this one before, but they came highly recommended. Now stop fretting, would you?”

“I’ll stop, but if we’re still looking for Kaeso’s prize at the end of the night, you should let me harden it some for you. Just for my own peace of mind.”

“If we have to overnight down there, I promise I’ll do it myself.”

“You don’t have to. I know it bores you and I can harden armour practically in my sleep.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” he said with a grin.

Ahead of us, Kaeso was standing in front of a closed door, drumming his fingers against his thigh with impatience. We sped up slightly to catch up with him. 

The door led to a storage room not far from the main doors. Within, we met the three men from supply that Kaeso had recruited while we were seeing to political niceties. They were roughly the same size and build as us and wore similar clothes. Kaeso handed them each a money pouch with half of what they'd been promised. They'd receive the other half when they completed the task. 

Dorian and I cast illusion spells so we appeared to be them and vice versa. Because we were likely to be under more scrutiny than usual, we took extra time to make them exact and keep the magical signature as unnoticeable as possible. They walked out the doors and into the waiting coach. Once it pulled away, we went deeper into the basilica, making our way unhurriedly to the service entrance to the undercity. 

There was a pallet waiting there for us, loaded with a stack of legitimate supplies. While Dorian and I made a great show of inspecting the pallet and discussing the most efficient way to levitate it, Kaeso presented the manifest to the guards. I suppose it was a sign of Maxim's iron efficiency that, even though they appeared bored, one of the guards actually read the thing and checked it against the contents of the pallet before signing off on it and ordering the doors opened. 

With Dorian and I levitating the pallet while Kaeso steered, we walked down a long ramp into Madauros's undercity. 

=#= 

The ramp ended at a staging area — a warehouse-sized space with arched tunnel entrances leading in five directions. Neatly piled islands of goods on pallets were lined up, awaiting transport.  Everything was well-built and well-lit with permanent mage lights in rounded globes that reminded me of the ones I'd made years ago when I was first on my own. There were more guards there who checked the manifest again and sent us down the correct corridor. 

Once we were unobserved, we stopped while Kaeso pulled out his stolen map. "We're here right now," he pointed, "and this will take us straight into the section where Icilius Pictor's set up. We drop this off and get into the less fashionable sections here." 

"What about the cells?" I said. 

Kaeso rolled his eyes. "They're on the way. If we've interpreted the notes correctly they should be here." He stabbed his finger at a small section the next level down. "So we get your friend and what? Are you expecting we'll take them with us?" 

"That's up to her, though she might have a difficult time getting out unseen on her own." 

"Yes, she's clearly not very adept at _unseen_ , considering where she is," Kaeso said with a smirk. "I don't see why I should consent to her coming with us. I hope you know I'm not paying her." 

"You'll consent because I'll quit if you don't, and if I quit, Dorian quits." 

"And vice versa," Dorian added. 

"Definitely. And I already assumed you wouldn't pay her." 

"Well, as long as that's understood," Kaeso said. We started walking again.

“I wonder what Maxim will do when he finds out there were Qunari agents operating right under his nose,” I said.

“Probably blame it on foreigners and people from Minrathous,” Dorian said with a smirk. “They should at least  charge him with gross incompetence.”

“It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.” 

The corridor was straight and squared, its walls finished in tile with a repeating geometric pattern. The lighting was white and steady, courtesy of more of the magic-imbued globes set at regular intervals along the ceiling. I wondered idly how often they needed to be recharged. Once in a while someone passed us, but they were all intent on whatever tasks they had. With our pallet, we were essentially part of the furniture to them. 

"Did you know the last governor of this city died of a social disease?" Kaeso said cheerfully. "Apparently it resisted all efforts to heal it. Very slow and nasty, it was. At the end they say he was quite mad and his nose had rotted off, along with the bits that had gotten him into that situation in the first place." 

"You know the most charming stories," I said. 

"Was this infection accidental or deliberate?" Dorian asked. 

"That is the salient question," Kaeso said with a grin, "and one they were never able to solve. Everyone suspected tampering, given healing potions and spells didn't do much more than momentarily annoy it. But infections are funny things, so it could just have been naturally resistant. It seems they have a sample of it right down here in Pictor's labs." 

"Kaeso, you are not going to steal it," I said sternly. 

"Really, Kai, I'm offended." He gave me a wounded look. "I'm no poisoner. There's no fun in that. Poisons are slow even when they're dramatic. It's not visceral enough." 

"Not all of them are slow," I said. 

"Pfft. It's still a dull, cowardly way to go about things. If you're going to do a thing, you should commit. You want to murder someone, you should be right there looking into their eyes as they slip away, not standing across the room sniggering." 

"So you have _standards_ ," I said. 

"I have _expectations_ and _vision_ , Kai. I am neither a common, brutish ruffian nor a cowardly sneak." 

"So you feel you're a superior breed of murderer?" 

"At least you know I won't ever poison your oatmeal." 

"Not even if you were paid to? Now that you know that disease sample is there, you could do it for money or fun," Dorian said. "You don't expect us to believe it didn't cross your mind." 

"I am not desperate enough for recognition to steal and peddle a venereal disease," Kaeso said with a snort. "I merely brought it up as an amusing anecdote." 

"Then I give you my heartfelt apologies," Dorian said with as much sincerity as Kaeso. 

We reached the pallet's destination and dropped it off under the watchful eyes of a couple of what we assumed were Pictor's people. 

I tried to see what I could of Pictor's inner sanctum, but there was precious little to look at in the big storage room where we delivered the pallet. The metal-banded door to his laboratory (I knew that's what it led to because there was a sign stating _Laboratory_ affixed to the wall next to it) was both warded and guarded by a muscular, armoured bastard who didn't seem likely to grant us permission to sightsee. 

With a mental sigh, I turned my attention back to Kaeso’s mission. I'd dearly love to have seen Pictor’s set-up, but we had no good excuse to go back there. 

Kaeso scribbled a signature and gave them a casual wave as we left. 

He instructed us to take a sharp left once we were out of eyesight. That took us to a narrow passage that angled steeply down. It ended in another corridor with different tiled pattern on the walls; otherwise it looked the same as the one we'd just left. 

"One more level and we're out of the fashionable part of the undercity," Kaeso said, consulting his map again. "It's also where your dungeons are." 

"Oh, goody," said Dorian. 

"Look, if she's there we'll just get her out fast and continue on," I said. 

"What if she's in no condition to continue on?" 

"That's what healing spells are for."

Dorian raised an eyebrow at me. "Says the one who's even weaker than I in that area."

I had no good reply to that. Instead I said, "So does everyone think we can drop the disguise spells?" 

Kaeso nodded. "I suspect anyone who sees us now would be questioning what we're doing down here with no paperwork. Keep an obscuring spell on, though." 

We did him one better and put on the layered spells we'd used in Castra Nicia. 

We passed a couple walking the same direction as us but slowly, deep in conversation. They didn't give us a first look, let alone a second. The _don't notice me_ spells were doing their job. 

"How far from the dungeons is the entrance that takes us to this treasure of yours?" Dorian asked. 

"A little hard to tell," Kaeso said. "It's down at least another level and the maps start getting vague there." 

"You watch. There'll be giant spiders," I predicted glumly.


	66. Rescue

One odd thing about Madauros's undercity: there are no stairs. Everything is ramps. Some of them have been roughed for traction, but there's not a stair to be seen. We took a ramp down to the third level. The walls there had none of the geometric designs of the upper levels; they were just stone that had been whitewashed, probably for reflectivity. The lights were placed at greater intervals and not quite as steady and bright. There was still the occasional person walking by, but they were infrequent and incurious. 

Consulting the map frequently, Kaeso led us through a meandering series of corridors until we reached one that dead-ended in a heavy wooden door. "According to this, Pictor's holding cells are through there. If there's a guard I call first stab at him." 

"If there's a guard, we'll try to knock them out," I countered. 

"Why?" 

"Because we say so," Dorian said, trying the handle. It was locked. "Care to open this?" 

"No wards this time? All right." 

He got to work and it wasn't long before the lock clicked loudly. We waited, but no one came running. We looked at each other and shrugged. Readying a spell just in case, I turned the handle and eased the door open. All we saw was a corridor perhaps twenty paces long. It also dead-ended; there was a small table and chair set up against the back wall, but they were currently untenanted. 

We entered cautiously anyway. As the diagram showed, there were two heavy wooden doors on each side of the corridor. We went to the one Fadik's name had been associated with and I called her name, first softly then, when nothing happened, louder. 

There was no acknowledgement from the other side of the door. 

"She may not be able to hear us," I said. 

"Or she may be asleep," Dorian added. 

Kaeso grinned. "Or she may be dead. That note was three weeks ago." 

"Well, aren't you just a little ray of sunshine," Dorian said. 

"Only one way to find out: Let's get this thing open. You'd best stand to one side," I said to him. 

"My thoughts exactly." He matched movement to words. 

"Go ahead," I said to Kaeso. 

He knelt in front of the door and in less than a minute the lock opened with a loud _clack_. He pulled back the bolt and the hinges gave a geriatric creak as the door swung open a crack. 

Then everything went to shit. 

The door _slammed_ the rest of the way open, narrowly missing Kaeso and me as we jumped out of the way. 

Fadik came barrelling through it, eyes shut, hands balled into fists. 

Before I'd even registered what was happening, Fadik bent down and, as though she was swinging a sledgehammer with all her considerable power behind it, swung her fists up and to her left. 

They hit Dorian in the chest with a sickening crack. 

I saw the shock and pain on his face at the same time as I was nailing Fadik with a force spell that threw her hard against the wall. 

She went down on her ass as I ran over to Dorian, who still had that shocked look. 

He said, "Kai?" and fell to the ground, coughing out a great gout of blood. 

I went down on my knees next to him. 

His chest had an unnatural, caved-in look and he was gasping, face grey, veins in his neck distending, blood dripping from his mouth and nose and…he was dying. 

I shouted something—it may have been his name or I may have just been swearing, I don't really remember. All I knew was he was _dying_ and I'm not very good at healing spells. 

However, there was one… 

At the time I learned it, I'd had the Anchor embedded in my left hand. The thing had strengthened my ability with all spellcasting—including the areas where I'd always been weak—almost as soon as it took up residence. As it got increasingly out of control, it had one beneficial side effect: I had all the extra power in the world as it channelled the raw power of the Fade through itself. For a short time (before it finished its job of trying to kill me), I was able to effortlessly cast healing spells that would heal and revive multiple people and go back to casting combat spells in seconds. 

I still knew the spell, and I knew how to amplify it. Without the boost from the Anchor, it was a last ditch option that would use up every bit of power I had and maybe more: I could throw my own life energy into it for that extra _oomph_ that was normally missing when I cast healing. 

It was a dangerous proposition as there was no good way of gauging how much life energy was too much (though I suppose your heart giving out would be a good indicator). 

Of course, I didn't sit there contemplating all that. Dorian was dying in front of my eyes, so I cast the damn spell. 

The power slammed out of me and into him, but I could feel it wasn't going to be enough. 

I gave it the extra, dangerous push even though it was making my nerve endings scream. I may have screamed too. 

Everything went black.


	67. Kaeso - Part 1: Holing Up

Well, shit. Or _kaffas_ if you want to drag out your old Tevene. Be careful when you agree to do _anything_ in payment for services rendered. 

I have been drafted to lend my unique perspective to this narrative, as I was the only one left conscious at the end of that last, hair raising (except in Kai's case — ha-ha) scene. 

For those of you who need a little extra help to understand what's happening around you, this is Kaeso Asina. 

Let me make one thing clear: I am brilliant, personable and devilishly handsome, but I am not a hero. 

I am, not to put too fine a gloss on it, a villain if I am anything. 

However, time spent with my ghostly, shaven-headed mirror image has thrust me into a quasi-heroic role. I'd say I hate it when that happens, but it's never happened before. There is a certain novelty to it, and I set great stock in novelty. 

So where were we? 

Ah, yes. Door flew open, large grey projectile flew through it, violently attacking Dorian for no discernible reason. 

Much shouting ensued, and I saw up close that it would be a bad idea to be on the receiving end if Kai wanted you out of his way. Then the world conspired to make my life difficult. 

Kai gave a gut-wrenching scream — I’m unsure whether it was in grief or pain — as he blew his proverbial wad in a surprisingly successful attempt to save Dorian's life, and the both of them dropped insensible to the stone floor. 

The Qunari responsible was trying to recover from the effects of Kai's mule-kick of a force spell, shaking her head woozily and looking all the more bovine for it.  She had dark grey skin, squinty eyes an improbably bright shade of blue, and dark horns that curved back and up, following the lines of her skull. Her hair was charcoal black, cut short but for a longer strip down the centre. I hadn’t seen how tall she was before Kai slammed her into the wall and sent her down on her arse, but I was sure she was at least a head taller than any of us. Judging by the damage she wreaked on Dorian even through his pathetically weak armour, she had some serious muscle on her. 

I poked her in the ribs with the toe of my boot and she blinked stupidly at me. 

"Congratulations," I said. "You have now given the phrase _stupid Qunari ox_ legitimacy. Well done." 

She said, "Wha?" 

"Oh, shake it off and be useful, would you? Shall I slap you? I've heard that helps." 

She blinked her very blue eyes and glared at me. "Who are you?" 

"The member of your rescue party who was least interested in rescuing you. You are Fadik, yes?" 

"Yes, I-" she paused, looking confused as tremendously complicated thoughts ticked sluggishly through her brain. "Rescue?" 

"Yes, _res-cue_. Shall I spell it?" I was annoyed, perhaps even verging on angry. I dislike dealing with slow-witted people at any time, let alone when everything's just gone pear-shaped. 

"You're here to rescue me? I don't know you." 

Now, I know she'd been locked up in a small dark room for some time, but really. I was losing patience with her. More concerning, neither of my morally superior companions had so much as twitched. 

"No, you don't. You see, _I_ was not here to rescue you. I still don't give two figs; this whole thing is just slowing me up. _He_ wanted to rescue you." I pointed at Kai. "So you thanked him by killing his lover. Well done. I'd best check on them; talking to you is as futile as teaching a nug to dance." 

I turned away and knelt between my fallen comrades. Normally my talents lie in the realm of removing life, but I've done that enough that I do know how to recognize the signs of life still being present. 

Dorian was a mess what with all the blood he'd coughed up, but his chest no longer had that curiously caved-in look it had taken on after Fadik tried to punch straight through him, and he was breathing normally. Based on previous experience with extreme healings, he probably just needed a day or two to sleep it off and he'd be back to his titivating, smartass self. 

Kai looked like death warmed over. Always pale, he now looked as ghostly as I accused him of being, except for some feverish blotching on his face. His breathing was shallow and thready, his skin clammy. I glanced up to find Fadik standing just behind me looking down at them. 

"That's Kai," she said. And they wonder why we call them ox men. 

"Yes, it is!" I said with exaggerated cheer. "Looks like he saved Dorian from your attack, but never fear—you may be responsible for his death instead!" 

_"Vashedan_ ," she said weakly. "I- I didn't know. I didn't know who was outside the door." 

"Yes, we've established that. If you _had_ known, you're even stupider than you look, and I should do the world a favour and kill you now," I snapped. 

I was feeling frustrated as well as angry. I don't know how to take care of sick and injured people. I never bothered to learn, as I never expected to be in a situation where I'd want to do such a thing. 

"Watch your mouth, human," she growled. 

"Take your threat display somewhere else, you stupid great lump," I retorted. Qunari don't scare me. "It's your fault both my mages are not only unavailable, but broken. Either help or go away, unless you'd prefer I just lock you back in that cell." 

Her fists balled and she took a step towards me. "You-" 

I pointed at Kai and Dorian. "No, _you_." 

She visibly deflated. "They're alive, though?" 

"So far. I don't know how much foot traffic you get down here, but we need to get them out of this hallway and into some place where they can recover. I don't suppose you know the layout of this place?" 

She shook her head; I was mildly disappointed that she didn't moo. 

"I've seen nothing outside of that cell." 

"Then we need to find a secure spot, somewhere we can hole up for a few days, thanks to you. That means foraging for food and water as well. Help me find somewhere that's at least the tiniest bit safer than this." 

"You want me to guard them while you search?" 

"No, I want you to search while I guard. I am actually lethally dangerous. You are just large." 

She bristled, already squinty eyes practically disappearing as she glared at me, but grunted assent and clumped away, checking cautiously before entering the main corridor. 

I crouched between my mages again, studying them with some dismay. We hadn't even reached the object I needed to fetch and my intelligence had been very clear about the need for mages. I suppose I could have gone and looked for new mages, but I didn't want new mages. I wasn't going to get anyone else as powerful as Kai and Dorian, and though I'd never let them know, I'd grown rather fond of them. 

"You see?" I said to Kai. "This is where sentiment and altruism get you. _Oh, let's rescue my friend the Qunari_. Hah. I only rescue people if I'm paid to. Or if it's an interesting rescue, which I suppose this has become, but it's not the kind of interesting I enjoy. This is just aggravating. I hope you don't have the sorts of injuries where you're not supposed to be moved, because I have to move you. What in Thedas is keeping that bovine friend of yours?" 

I stood up and paced in a truncated circle. I was bored and annoyed, but couldn't do anything about it, which amplified everything. I wondered if someone would be bringing Fadik her supper. Then I could kill them. I find that's a great stress reliever. 

Fadik came back first. She'd found a room not far away that looked like it hadn't been used in years. No luck with food and water yet, but it would get them out of the corridor. 

"Can you carry them both?" I asked. 

"One at a time," she said crossly. I don't know what she had to be cross about, considering she'd been rescued and I was speaking to her despite what she'd done. 

"Well, then get to it," I said. "I'll wait here with whoever you take second. _Do_ try not to break them any more." 

She growled something that sounded Qunari and probably rude under her breath, and carefully picked up Dorian, who made a small noise. I took that to be an encouraging sign. 

Kai still looked like _kaffas_. I put _find healing potions_ on my mental to-do list, along with the mental note _bring healing potions even if you do have mages_. I hadn't considered for a moment that something might take both of them out at once. It's that sort of thing that makes me more determined than ever to work alone whenever possible. 

Fadik came stumping back and picked up Kai just as carefully. 

"I don't suppose you ran across any healing potions while you were looking?" I said. 

"No," she grunted. 

This time I accompanied her. We took the first left turn that presented itself, went down a ramp to the next level and passed three doors before pushing through one to our right. It was dim and looked dusty (the room, not the door, he said wittily), but whoever had spelled the lights had intended them to last; a good thing, what with my mage situation. 

There was a line of cots and small dressers along one wall. When she set Kai on one of the cots a cloud of dust puffed up around him. _Good thing they don't have open wounds,_ I thought. 

"Do you know the first thing about tending to injured people?" I asked. 

"Some," she said. "Don't you?" 

"No." I did not like her tone. "I do not. I am normally the one doing the injuring. So what do we do with them? Since you broke them in the first place, you should at the very least help fix them." 

"I didn't know you were friends," she reiterated. 

"Oh, so sorry, next time we'll send you an embossed visiting card ahead of time," I said. "Are you going to snipe at me or are you going to help?" 

"We need to loosen any restrictive clothing first," she said and set about undoing the laces on Dorian's armour. 

I could do that. I'd undressed corpses and even the odd unconscious person before. Of course, I'd never been concerned about their physical welfare at the time. 

I managed to get the leather coat Kai's so fond of off him without too much bother. I even hung it up nicely. The armoured overshirt was annoying. It was just stiff enough to resist coming off easily, and the undershirt kept trying to tangle and come with it. I prevailed, naturally, and in the course of rearranging the undershirt, saw that my favourite mage has quite an impressive set of scars all up his left side. 

"Well, this certainly wasn't his first dance, was it?" I said. 

Fadik looked over to see what I was on about and said, "It was a fade demon." 

It nettled that she knew that and I didn't, but I suppose he trusted her more. I did wonder under what circumstances she'd seen him shirtless. 

Shirt successfully arranged, I gave her my best mischievous look as my hand hovered over his trousers. "Shall we have a peek?" 

She gave me the sort of look people get when they're examining the bottom of their shoe after they stepped in something nasty. 

" _Fasta vass,_ it was just a joke," I said. "Besides, if their bodies continue functioning as normal, you're going to end up getting an eyeful whether you like it or not. _Some_ one's going to need to clean them up; I vote that someone is whoever put them in this state in the first place." 

"Do you always talk so much?" 

I pretended to think about it. "Yes. Unless I'm working. I can't work until I have my mages back. Additionally, you are not holding up your end of the conversation—not that you've demonstrated any facility for it—and nature does abhor a vacuum, after all." 

She looked more closely at Kai and frowned at what she saw. "He's in a bad way." 

"So delighted you were here to tell me that. Can you offer anything _constructive_ to accompany that keen observation?" 

"Haven't noticed you doing much more than being an arrogant smartass," she snapped. 

I blinked innocently at her. "But it's what I do best." 

"Well, _you_ try being useful. Go over there and get those blankets and shake the dust off them. They need to be kept warm." 

Resisting the urge to ask her why the blankets needed to be kept warm, I did as she said, thinking dust was one thing there was no shortage of in this room. 

Task accomplished, I delivered them to her, watching as she covered Kai then did the same with Dorian. 

"We need things," I said. "Off the tip of my mind, water is paramount, followed by food and healing potions if there are such things down here. Anything else?" 

"I need a weapon," she said immediately. 

"Hm. Second intelligent thing you've said. I assume you prefer something that suits your size?" 

"Greatswords are my preference. Past that, anything with a blade." 

"Would have thought large, blunt things were more your speed, but the world is an occasionally surprising place. It's on my shopping list. Anything else?" 

"As you pointed out, we will need to relieve ourselves. If there isn't something for that nearby, we will need to improvise." 

"Right, find facilities or buckets. Buckets with lids, preferably. I believe I shall commence my scavenger hunt, then. Water and a large bladed weapon are my first priorities." 

"I hope you're as good at scavenging as you claim to be," she said, giving me a cynical look. 

"I did not say I was good at scavenging, though I am. I said I am dangerous and lethal. I assure you, I am both. Would you like me to demonstrate?" 

She snorted. "Save it for everybody out _there_. I'm barring this door when you go out. You're going to need to let me know it's you." 

"Shall I sing a few stanzas of something rousingly martial?" 

"I think a syncopated knock would be more effective," she said drily. 

"My, four syllables. I didn't think you had it in you." I rapped out the rhythm to a song that had been popular during the dreary year I'd spent in Orlais, doubting any of the locals would have heard it. "How's that?" 

"Another time." She listened intently. "That will do. Try not to get yourself killed." 

"I trust unlike our mutual friend here, and quite probably Dorian, you have no strictures against my killing others?" 

She gave me a hard smile that improved her mien immensely. "Kill as many as you like." 

"My opinion of you is slowly improving," I said, giving her a rakish smile as I eased the door open. "Keep him alive, would you? I shall find potables first."


	68. Kaeso - Part 2: Exploration

The undercity of Madauros is a bewildering rabbit's warren that seems to have been slapped together by whatever madman felt like building a tunnel at the time. In a way, that was working to my advantage—it appeared that large areas of it were rarely travelled unless absolutely necessary. 

First I made my way back to the Qunari's cell. There was no sign that anyone had been there, so I took a moment to close and re-lock the door. With any luck, no one would even notice she was gone for some time, instead assuming she'd gone on some silly hunger strike. In fact, it occurred to me that if I merely crept back up and disposed of whatever swill they were feeding her for the days we needed to hole up, they might never realize. Sometimes I'm surprised and delighted by my own brilliance. 

Feeling it was well within reach to set things back to going my way after Kai's disastrous decision to free his lumpish grey friend, I went back down the ramp to start my scavenger hunt away from the cells. 

First thing I did was consult my map, which was getting increasingly unreliable the deeper we went. This level looked like someone had started mapping it then given up. The section we were in had at least been sketched, with no indication what anything might be. The sketching then turned to tentative scribbles before the map-maker apparently gave up in despair. 

I pulled a small piece of chalk out of my tool pouch. This wasn't my first experience with labyrinthine underworlds, and a few subtle direction markers can make all the difference between effective reconnaissance and blind wandering. I marked our door and headed out. 

The corridors on this lower level were all dimly lit, but again I mentally congratulated whatever mage had created the lighting. There was such an air of neglect about the place I doubted anyone had refreshed the spells in years. 

I opened and checked each room I came upon. Those closest to ours appeared to be other abandoned dormitories, useless for anything except extra mattresses, pillows and blankets. 

My first useful discovery was across from the last dormitory—a lavatory that appeared dusty but functional. I tried the pump attached to one of the washbasins and was frankly shocked when, after some asthmatic wheezing and a gout of dust and rust-filled liquid, clean water poured out. I wasn't sure whether mages or artificers were responsible for that minor miracle, but I added congratulations to them. I tried a swallow of the water — it tasted metallic but tolerable. My body wanted more, but I stopped at the single swallow in case it was tainted. I moved on. 

In addition to bewildering, I will add that Madauros's undercity is fascinating. If I hadn't been in a hurry, I could have browsed on that level alone for hours. I still may return to do some real exploring one of these days. They hadn't seemed to feel the need for an organized layout, perhaps because they were digging their passageways out of the bedrock of a mountain and using magic, bound spirits and slaves to do all the heavy lifting. As a result, corridors meandered every which way. I took note of which ones led down toward my goal, but stayed on the level I was exploring. 

There were rooms everywhere and most appeared long forgotten. One held nothing but cooking pots and utensils; another had mouldering stacks of old portraits; another racks of moth-eaten undergarments. Those were an example of the majority—neglected rooms filled with old furniture and supplies that someone once thought might be useful to amass or keep—but it was the oddities that interested me. Some I planned on showing Kai and Dorian on our way down. 

One room was filled with knee-high pyramids that glowed sullenly to themselves; another was inexplicably filled with lovingly rendered but poorly executed paintings of Mabari hounds dressed as humans doing human activities. 

A third was filled with household-sized statues of what may have been gods. About half were carved of green soapstone and seemed to be mostly tentacles, the other half obsidian renderings of something that appeared to be bubbling black flesh with random eyes throughout. They were being guarded by what had to be a taxidermist's joke: the thing was a few heads taller than I with a long, grey-skinned torso ribbed like a barrel, and circling the centre were five tentacle-like arms. It had something like a bulbous neck at either end, a 'head' shaped like a puffy starfish with more rude-looking tentacles hanging off it and an unsightly five-armed 'foot' at the bottom. It was mounted on a sturdy pedestal and just to complete the effect, they'd equipped the thing with giant, leathery bat wings. I wondered what sort of drugs the taxidermist had been imbibing and closed the door. 

Eventually I found a few rooms that contained things we needed. First I found buckets in every size one could possibly desire stuffed in a room along with a vast array of coat racks. A few rooms away I picked the lock and found a drunkard's wet dream—enough hard liquor, wine and beer to stock a good sized pub for at least a few days. The room had another locked door that I also picked, and inside were unlabelled bottles that certainly looked like healing and lyrium potions. At this rate I was going to need a cart to haul everything. For the time being I loaded a few buckets with healing potions (I hoped) and alcohol, re-locked the door and hauled them up to our room. 

Fadik waited until I'd completed the entire Secret Knock before unbarring the door, even though I hadn't seen a single living soul the entire time I was out. 

"Empty out these buckets and I'll show you where we can get water," I told her. If the water I'd tried was going to sicken me, it would have by now. 

"Are those healing potions?" 

"I can't say for sure. They look like they are. They were in their own little locked room next to all the alcohol." 

" _All_ the alcohol?" 

"My dear, we could all go on a three-day drunk with what's in that room and barely make a dent." 

She made an amused noise. "Water first. We need it for cleaning up and I'm parched. Show me." 

I thought that was a bit imperious, but had to concede she'd been waiting a long time, and my mages would probably benefit more from water than a firm belt of liquor when they finally came around. Despite the lack of local denizens we remained cautious and reached the lavatory without incident. 

While Fadik made use of the facilities, I filled the buckets and took a long drink. 

She did the same, saying, "Did you check this entire room?" 

"No, just tested the water," I said. 

She nodded and went poking about. In minutes she gave a triumphant _Hah!_ and came back carrying cakes of soap. "Here, Spindly, you take these and I'll take the buckets." 

I gave her a narrow look as I took the soap. "The name is Kaeso. I suggest you remember that." 

"Fine. This is the first time you mentioned your name, so don't get all pouty at me." 

We didn’t speak again until we got back to the room and barred the door. "You do realize if you hadn't broken my mages we could have this door properly warded," I said. 

"You Vints depend too much on magic, and since when are they _your_ mages?" 

She was definitely more uppity now that she'd had some time to recover. I wasn't sure if I liked that. 

"They agreed to help me with a task and I am paying them for it. So for the time being they are my mages. And you broke them." 

She glared at me. 

"And you accuse _me_ of pouting. Suppose you tell me how I’m being unfair. _You_ broke Dorian. Kai then broke himself saving Dorian, which he would not have to have done if not for _you_. You should be thrilled I’m merely berating you.”

She started to speak, stopped, and said, “Why don’t we just concentrate on bringing them back for now. We have clean water at least.”  

I found her near-growl as she struggled to keep her temper under control amusing. It served her right for delaying my mission. 

With perfect calm, I said, “So we have water. Do we try to get them to drink some? _Can_ you get unconscious people to drink?" 

"Best not to as long as they're not out too long. Let's check those healing potions." 

I held one up to the dim light. "If one of them doesn't wake soon, I shall have to add 'lantern' to my list. This lighting is beyond vexing." 

“Better than sitting in the dark,” Fadik said.

“Yes, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you.” I uncorked my bottle as she did the same with the one she'd taken. 

"This is no healing potion. It's just wine in a potion bottle," she said crossly. 

"Just a moment." I sniffed it. It was certainly red wine but… I took a sip, swishing it around in my mouth before swallowing. I waited another moment then couldn't help but smile. "Why, those sly bastards. That's certainly one way to keep your clientele coming back." 

"What?" She even managed to make that single word sound cross. 

"This wine is laced with a small amount of healing potion," I explained. "Not a lot—just enough so when your patrons drink wine at _your_ establishment, they walk away feeling wonderful. You could make just a few bottles of healing potion go a _very_ long way. How diabolically clever. Makes me want to open my own little pub." 

"So are they all wine or were there any bottles of the real thing?" 

I took another sip. "I haven't the slightest idea. The only way to know for sure would be to sample each and every bottle. I see Kai’s trousers are hanging up, by the way. Oooooh! Or should I say _both_ their trousers. Couldn't resist a little look after all?" 

Oh, if looks could kill. 

"I realized you were correct about bodily functions still happening. I took appropriate steps." 

“If you say so,” I said in a skeptical tone. I took a healthy quaff of wine — it was giving me a lovely little boost — and gave her a salacious grin. “So who’s bigger?”

“I didn’t notice,” she said flatly.

I strolled over to have a closer look at Dorian. He was still out, but in a deep-sleep manner I'd seen before. "Dorian," I said experimentally. 

He made a little noise and mumbled something unintelligible. 

"He should be back with us within the next day." 

"I thought you knew nothing about nursing people back to health." 

"I don't, but I've seen the aftermath of extreme healings before. You should drink that bottle you opened; it might improve your mood." 

She raised her bottle and waggled it at me. "Way ahead of you, Spindly." 

"If you call me that one more time, I will hurt you." I let the friendly face drop for a moment, just until I saw her register the change. 

She frowned. "Are you sure you're actually a _friend_ of Kai's?" 

"I'm going to go back to shopping. You'll have to find a way to amuse yourself." 

"Don't be concerned on my account." 

"I'm not." 

I slipped back out the door, hearing the _clunk_ as she barred it again. I went back up to her cell to discover her feeder had come and gone. I gave the meal a sniff, but it was ghastly. I dumped it down the waste hole in the cell, closed the door behind me and set the bowl just inside the slot they sent food through. That should give us at least another day without guards nosing around. Well, as long as they didn’t require her for another experiment. 

I returned to the lower level and my explorations: A room populated with elderly torture devices and children's toys. Another filled with ledgers, inkwells, curiously singed spellbooks and a large golden statue of a nug standing upright on its hind legs. A third filled with damaged cart wheels and a single lampshade stencilled with dragons. Another room was empty but for a large plaster statue of a black bear. It had an idiotic look on its face and was incongruously holding a fishing pole. 

I found my next quarry behind another locked door at the dead end of a skinny, winding corridor. It was a pantry filled with preserves, and not just of the tasty, fruity kind. Whoever made this their personal project had tried to preserve at least one of everything. There were jars of meat, eggs, vegetables, fruit, and things I couldn't identify. Problem was, I had no way to transport it all, so I relocked the door and went in search of something with wheels.

The corridor I was following had a room with dusty writing desks followed by one where someone had hung lengths of chain — some with shackles attached — from one end to the other. It took a sharp right, and only my exceptional reflexes saved me. Just a few steps in was a crevasse wide enough that the unwary could find themselves hurtling into it before they knew what was happening. I’d jumped back the moment I felt myself losing my balance. Now I approached it more cautiously and peered over the edge. It was deep enough I could see no sign of the bottom. There was a cold breeze blowing up from it, as well as a faint but fetid odour. But there was something else… I listened, and after a few moments was able to make sense of what I was hearing. Far, far — one might even say _impossibly_ far — down, it sounded like people screaming. It was probably something dull like the wind being channelled through dead, narrow corridors, but it amused me to think it was countless people screaming in torment, begging for a mercy that would never come. 

I shrugged and moved on, entering a room stuffed (if you'll excuse the pun) with taxidermied animals of every description. The smallest was a baby fennec, the largest and by far the ugliest a giant leaking sawdust from its sagging gut. There was even a full-sized giant spider that I must admit gave me a bit of a turn as they'd posed it rearing up to strike. 

I found it in a stuffed wyvern—a massive beast of a greatsword. But what a greatsword! I may have giggled out loud. It was steel underneath, but the maker had spelled gold and silver patterns over the entire blade that glittered at the slightest provocation. It had a golden, ornately jeweled hilt, and when I swung it experimentally it made proud little musical noises and left traces of colour in its wake. I was going to enjoy handing it to Fadik. 

I finally found a small cart in a room half filled with chunks of marble. It made such a racket that, had there been any guards about, they would have come running. Returning to the preserve room, I stacked it with those that looked palatable and trundled it slowly back to our temporary lodgings, trying to keep the noise down. 

Fadik looked approvingly at the preserves then suspiciously at the cloth-wrapped item I held out for her. 

"What is it?" 

I gave her a winning smile. "I found a greatsword. Go ahead—open it." 

"You are far too happy about this." She frowned, unwrapping the cloth. "What's wr- _vashedan_ , you call this a _sword_?" She held it up. The movement made it sparkle and sing in a little flourish of colour. 

I managed to avoid giggling, but couldn't quite wipe the smile off my face. "Believe it or not, the weapon is sound. Tastelessly, madly gaudy, but perhaps they planned on it distracting the enemy into making mistakes." 

She looked it over critically. "You're right. The ridiculous thing's actually well-made under all this… _this_. First skull that gets cleaved, people will stop laughing at it." 

"Perhaps you have some redeeming qualities after all," I said. 

We had a meal of preserved everything with beer, kept an eye on my mages, and finally slept in shifts on dusty beds. As camping trips went, I've endured worse, but it was getting tiresome very quickly. I needed Dorian to wake up so he could heal Kai and get us back on the road.


	69. Kaeso - Part 3: Waiting

I sat on my dusty cot, sipping a bottle of healing-potion-laced wine and watching Dorian Pavus snore. I was finding it increasingly difficult not to go over and give him a good poke in the ribs just to see if it would hasten his return. 

Kai still looked like shit and had barely twitched. 

Fadik was on the other side of the room on her own cot of dust, drinking water from an emptied beer bottle. We hadn't spoken much to each other. I had nothing to say, and it seemed I annoyed her as much as she annoyed me. 

"He's snoring again. Doesn't that indicate he's close enough to awake that we can finish the job?" I said. 

"I don't know. It could be dangerous." 

"Leaving Kai unhealed could be dangerous. In case you hadn't noticed, there’s been no sign of improvement. This is unacceptable." 

"So sorry the world hasn't arranged itself to your liking." 

"Says the one responsible for disarranging it. If something doesn't happen soon, I'm going to go look for healing potions. You should clean up some of this dust." 

"Clean it yourself, pretty boy," she grumbled. 

"I knew deep down you were attracted to me," I said, giving her a smug smile. 

"Whether you believe it or not, that is a joke. The only one in this room attracted to you is you." 

"I believe you should allow my mages to speak for themselves." 

"Maybe I'll tell them you've been referring to them as your property this entire time." 

"Go right ahead. They expect that sort of thing from me." 

I stood, generating another puff of dust, and walked over to look at Dorian. He looked fine in my opinion. I crouched down closer to him and gently shook his shoulder. He stopped snoring with an alarming snort, but that was all. I tried again as I said his name and was rewarded with a whiny groan. 

I looked over at Fadik. "See? He just needs some encouragement." 

She picked up her shiny new greatsword for the hundredth time that morning and gave it a lazy swing. It gave a musical trill, leaving rainbow trails in its wake. "Fine, then. Encourage him. It'll at least give you someone else to pester." 

I went to it with calm determination, repeating his name as I gave him another series of shakes. 

He mumbled _fuck off_ and tried to roll away from me. 

"If you're healthy enough to tell me to fuck off, you're healthy enough to wake up," I said. I kept at him. Believe it or not, I can be extremely annoying when I set my mind to it. Finally his eyelids fluttered and opened. He stared up at me blankly. 

"Wakey wakey," I said. 

He croaked, _"Kaffas."_

"Don't you dare go back to sleep," I admonished. "Let's help you sit up." 

He went along with that, and soon we had him sitting crosswise on the cot, propped against the wall with the blanket pooled around his waist. 

"Drink some of this. Then you can have some water." I uncorked a wine healer and handed it to him. He drank without protest and finally gained some focus to his look. "Better?" I asked. 

"I hate living a cliché, but what happened?" he said. His voice was low and raspy. 

"You remember we were rescuing Kai's Qunari?" At his nod, I continued, "Well. We opened her cell door, she came barrelling out like an enraged gurn and killed you with a two-handed punch to the chest. Kai, sentimental fool that he is, knocked her into next week before she could do any more damage then nearly killed himself healing you. Since then I've been waiting for you to wake up so you can return the favour and heal Kai back." 

"…killed me?" he said faintly. 

"Oh, yes. You're just lucky your amatus doesn't freeze in a crisis. He's in a bad way, so you might want to try to gather your strength sooner than later. We couldn't find any proper healing potions, but the wine's laced with it." 

He took another drink, chased that down with the water Fadik handed him. It was fascinating watching him _come back_. He did so much more quickly than Fadik had, I might add. 

"Wait. Kai's hurt?" 

"I don't know that _hurt_ is quite correct. He overextended himself casting the healing spell on you. Threw every ounce of his power into it, screamed and went down. He's been out ever since and, quite frankly, he looks like death just _barely_ warmed over." 

" _Venhedis_." He tried to leap out of bed and landed back against the wall with a thud. "Ouch. That was not a good idea. I may need some assistance getting up. And where are my trousers?" 

"While you've both been out, your bodies have been chugging right along; we had to allow for that unpleasant fact," Fadik said. "They're hanging up right there." 

Dorian's nose wrinkled as he processed that information. "I see. Well. Thank you for tending to that." 

"It was the least she could do after breaking you," I said. 

She shot me a death look that I acknowledged with a smarmy smile. 

"If you could hand them to me," Dorian prompted. 

I did, then helped him put them on. I don't think I'd ever indulged in as much altruism in my life as I did in those few days. 

He took another drink of wine healer (I really am going to have to take that idea and register ownership of that name) and I steadied him on his walk over to Kai. 

He knelt down and examined Kai then looked up at me, clearly distressed. 

"He's been like that since it happened," I said. "He _has_ somehow managed to stay alive." 

He said, "Damn you, Kai," under his breath as he turned back. 

"I may have some lyrium laced drink here if you need it," I offered. 

"We'll see. Now be quiet." He laid his hands on Kai and started casting. 

I have no magical ability myself, but I come from a family of powerful mages and I do know a thing or two about magic. I can even sense it (which has helped in my chosen line of work), and I can tell when and how a spell is being worked. I can’t see into the magical spectrum to check for things like wards and magical traps, more’s the pity, but what I can do gives me an edge over the usual Soporati.

I've never let my mages know I can see what they're doing and how they're doing it, because you never know when that might come in handy. All of which is my way of saying I was able to sense and follow what Dorian was doing. 

What he was casting wasn't a simple healing spell. A weak underpinning of it was, but the bulk of it was a very different sort of beast. I'd never seen that sort of spell cast before, and I can tell you it was difficult and complicated. As a necromancer, he was essentially turning that school on its head, using his death spirits to find Kai and literally either pull or lead him back, I couldn't be sure which. And he was doing it minutes after waking up from his own brush with death. 

My estimation of him went up — doing that took a great deal of skill and some real balls, especially in his condition. It was annoying to find I'd been partially taken in by that shallow fop act he puts on. 

After several minutes, he lifted his hands away and sat down hard on the floor, sweating and breathing heavily. "I think it worked. I could also use a bit of help getting off this floor." 

I moved to do so, but Fadik beat me to it, the sneaky great lump. While she all but carried him back to the bed, I checked on Kai. He was still out, but his colour and breathing were finally back to normal. 

I felt something like relief. My mages were nearly fixed and we could get back to my quest. 

I opened another wine healer to celebrate then had to reconsider when I looked over to see Dorian once again passed out on his cot. 

=#= 

There followed several hours that were so dull I went out exploring again. They'd brought Fadik's cell another bowl of gruel, so I let them think it had been consumed in the usual fashion then went back down a level. 

Following my chalk marks, I was able to navigate easily through the areas I'd already visited. 

After some wandering I found what I was _really_ looking for — a steep ramp that led deeper down into the mountain. At least, it matched the description in my minimal directions. The one good thing about all this injury and sacrifice my mages had indulged in was I would now appear brilliant as I led them unerringly through the labyrinth of the undercity. 

I just had to make sure they were healed enough to stand up to the resistance I'd been assured was coming. Perhaps having the big Qunari along wasn't a bad thing after all. 

I found a room filled with magically preserved cheeses and hard crackers, another devoted to musical instruments and another piled halfway up the back wall with bones. I took the food and swung by the bucket room in case my mages weren't up to the trip to the facilities. 

I returned to our room to find Kai was at long last stirring.

**_####_ **


	70. Back in the Land of the Living

Some say when you nearly die, you find yourself going down a tunnel of light through the Fade, or that you meet loved ones or see a comprehensive review of your life. 

This was my third time going down that rabbit hole (I don't count the time I lost my arm; I only reached the point of very sick then), and I don't remember seeing a damn thing. 

The first thing I remembered being aware of after I cast my killer healing spell was…not exactly Dorian, but his _essence_. Then I went under again. 

The next thing, I was aware of sounds as I woke sluggishly. Sounds, and the fact that my entire body was aching abominably. I tried to shift position and that hurt even more. I made some sort of noise to that effect and heard Dorian say "Kai?" very close to my ear. 

He sounded anxious. 

I opened my eyes a crack and fancied that hurt too. Still, the fact that he was there sounding anxious meant my spell had worked. 

I said, "Good. You're alive." It came out a gravelly whisper and made my throat hurt. 

"Yes, and I've been told I have you to thank for that," he said softly. "We'll talk about that later when we don't have an audience. Do you think you can sit up?" 

I considered the idea. Thinking hurt too. "…Hurts," I managed. 

"What hurts?" 

"Everything." 

A new thought formed and I rasped out, "Thirsty." 

As he was getting me water, I managed to laboriously prop myself up on my left elbow just enough so I could drink more easily. I felt like I'd been beaten from the inside out. The water (metallic-tasting and served in an old beer bottle) helped. 

I lay back down and attempted to cast a small healing spell on myself. Big, big mistake. As soon as I started casting pain screamed down every nerve ending I had again. It tore a hoarse yell out of me, though I stopped casting immediately. 

Dorian was back by my side before I even quite registered he'd arrived. 

"Amatus? What's wrong?" Yes, he was worried. 

I attempted a rueful smile. "My own damn fault. Tried to cast a healing spell. Can't yet." 

"Let me do that, would you? Just lie still." 

There wasn't much else I could do, so I followed his instructions. I think I nodded off again, because the next thing I registered was Kaeso's voice sounding peevish: _Well, how long is he going to be like this?_

"As long as it takes." Dorian sounded cross. 

"You tried healing him more?" 

" _Yes,_ Kaeso. Now either accept it's going to take time or I'll cast a silencing spell on your mouth." 

"Hear, hear!" said someone else. The voice was familiar but I was having trouble placing it. 

"Oh, shut up. You're the reason this is all happening." 

"How about you stop reminding everyone of that every five minutes, Vint?" I heard a strange little musical trill. 

"Are you seriously threatening me, you bovine lump?" 

"Not at all.  Just getting accustomed to the heft of this thing. Call me 'bovine lump' again and we _will_ have a problem." 

"Both of you stop it this moment." That was Dorian, going from cross to exasperated. " _Venhedis_ , you're worse than children, and children were never a joy I've wanted to experience." 

Fadik. That's who the other voice belonged to. I wanted to sit up but wasn't sure if I could. I tried to work myself up to it, pushing myself up on my elbows. It hurt, of course, and I couldn't help but make another noise. That brought Dorian over with Fadik trailing just behind. 

Fortunately, the top end of my cot was against a wall, so they were able to get me into a sitting position, propped up with pillows while I waited for the pain to abate. Kaeso hung back during the whole operation, looking impatient. 

Once I was situated and sipping another bottle of water, Kaeso and Fadik gave me a rather snarky rundown on what had happened since I nearly spelled myself to death. 

I couldn't blame Fadik for her actions, but it had put a kink in our plans. Dorian was going to need at least another day to recover fully and I had no idea how long it was going to take me to get back to normal. 

"Can't you just cast a few more healing spells?" Fadik asked Dorian. 

"As I told Kaeso — who should already know — it doesn't work that way," he said with a sigh. "You run into a wall of diminishing returns. After a while you _have_ to let the person's body do some natural recovering. Force the issue too much and it will start to do the opposite. In addition, the kind of trauma Kai has suffered isn’t conventional. A healing potion or spell might not even recognize that there’s anything to heal." 

"Translation: we are _stuck_ in this dustbin of a room until these two have recovered sufficiently to not just travel, but hold their own in a fight," Kaeso said with a baleful look at Fadik. "So _delighted_ we were able to rescue you." 

"Stop it, Kaeso," I said. "We all know what happened. Did it ever occur to you she might be an asset?" 

"Until now we didn't _need_ extra assets." 

"You don't know that," Dorian said. "There's every possibility we'll run into something that our magic and your daggers can't affect. It's happened to us before." 

"Oh, yes, let's everyone stick up for the ox woman," Kaeso snapped. 

"Andraste's tits, Kaeso, shut the fuck up," I snapped back. "You've been inconvenienced, that's all. Keep it up and we'll just fucking go home." 

Dorian nodded agreement. 

He gave us all one of those cold, emotionless looks. It stayed longer than he normally allowed then he seemed to come to a decision. "I apologize. You’re still badly damaged. I was always told I don't play well with others. If you don't mind, I'm going to do some reconnaissance. That should, as they say, give the air some time to clear and cut down on time wasted once we can move again." 

"I'd say that's a sound idea," Dorian said. "If you could find more food that isn't pickled, for instance, all would be forgiven." 

Kaeso gave a small twitch of a smile. "I can but try. See you all later." He pocketed a couple of what he called 'wine healers' and slid out the door. 

Fadik said, "Seriously—he's a friend of yours?" 

"In a manner of speaking," Dorian said. "He's in my employ, and he feels a sort of kinship with Kai. I don't know that he really knows what friendship is." 

"In his own strange way he does," I said, "Not that I'd trust him as far as I can spit, but as long as his needs align with yours, he's all right." 

She shook her head. "I'll take your word for it. But I think you should know, he said you were in _his_ employ." 

"Well…at this time, we rather are," Dorian said. "At least, we're helping him accomplish something in exchange for current and future payment, but that's separate from the arrangement in which he's under my employ." 

"It's complicated," I added with a slight smile. 

Fadik snort-laughed. "Kai, with you involved that's a given. If you two don't mind, I'm going to go wash up. I don't know how long I was in that cell, but it was more than long enough to feel like I've got grime _under_ my skin, and now that you're both out of the woods…I'll bring more water when I'm done." 

"Take your time; we'll be fine," Dorian said. 

Once she'd left, he pulled a chair up next to me. "Alone at last. From what I gather, she took care of both of us including -um- cleaning up the entire time." 

"Nice of her. Somehow I can't see Kaeso doing that. Actually, I doubt it would even occur to him." 

"So. How _are_ you feeling?" He looked solemn and concerned. 

"Sore. Very sore. I feel like I burned every magical channel and nerve ending casting that spell. And weak. Off-centre, if that makes sense. But I don't feel _bad_." 

"I'll take that as positive." Dorian rested a hand on my thigh. Since the hand closest to his was my left, it would have been pointless from a tactile perspective to take it. 

"I don't remember what Kaeso described. He said she killed me, Kai. She didn't, did she? That was just hyperbole." His eyes were wide, his countenance distressed. 

I felt bad for him, but he'd resent it if I sugar-coated things. 

I shook my head, which made me feel slightly dizzy. "It wasn't. She caved your chest in. Hit you point blank with everything she had, and you know how hard a Qunari can hit. I don't know precisely what she destroyed, but you were dying in front of me. That's why I had to take the chance. I wasn't going to allow that to happen." 

"You nearly killed your _self_." 

"It was a calculated risk that was worth it." 

He traced a finger down my left bicep, stopping to rest his hand at the elbow, above the point the prosthesis took over. "How could you possibly have calculated the risk in the time you say you had?" 

"Well, we're both still here, so it all worked out." 

"You used that damned restoration spell, didn't you? The big one you needed the Anchor to work safely." 

"You know I'm not great with healing spells. It was the only way I could save you." 

"I couldn't have lived with myself if you'd died healing me," he persisted. 

I hated how upset he looked. 

"Yes you could. You'd have to or I'd have done that for nothing." 

"How can you be so—so philosophical about this?" He let go my arm, raked his hands through his hair and immediately smoothed it back into place. 

I laughed humourlessly, which hurt. "Repetition breeds a level of calm, I suppose. Ever since the Temple of Sacred Ashes, it seems _something_ tries to kill me every few years. If you could find a way to break that cycle, I'd be very grateful." 

He slouched into his chair, putting his legs up on the bed next to me. "Believe me, it would do my nerves a world of good as well. Really, amatus, you bring a whole new dimension to the phrase _accident prone._ " 

"Although this time I could say it was the world's way of driving home that you really need to work on your dodging skills."


	71. Getting Reacquainted

I dozed off again. I felt wrung out and exhausted, like I was recovering from a long illness. I awoke when I heard knocking at the door. 

Fadik opened it and Kaeso came clattering in pulling a cart loaded with food. "I happened across one of their larders, easily accessible via a forgotten dumbwaiter," he said cheerfully. 

Fadik looked up from her survey of the cart. "All right, I'll admit it, Spindly. This is rather impressive." 

"The name is Kaeso, Ox Woman. Sorry I couldn't find a bag of grasses and oats for you." 

Dorian went to have a look for himself. "Are you two going to do this every waking moment?" 

Kaeso grinned. "Probably. You might want to tell her to stop being such an annoyance." 

"I should throw silencing spells on both of you until Kai's feeling better. It's not even been a day and your insults are getting repetitious. It's the unoriginality I find most distressing." He poked through the cart. "Some of these things are going to need cooling spells if we don't eat them quickly. Kai? Can you eat?" 

"I can try," I said, unsure how I felt about food. I knew I needed some, but wasn't keen on the idea of actually eating. "I'm thirstier than anything right now." 

Fadik brought me some water as Kaeso said, "You should have a wine healer. They're refreshing _and_ help cover up feelings of illness and discomfort." 

"You sound like a street huckster. I don't suppose you have something other than wine?" 

"I can get you any variety of alcohol you desire, but only the wine seems to come laced with healing potion," he said. "I've already claimed rights to the idea." 

Fadik snorted. 

Kaeso said, "Keep that up and I'll find you a nice, big nose ring." 

Dorian rejoined me, saying, "Do you want me to put together a plate for you?" 

"I should probably see if I can stand," I said. "Mind keeping close just in case?" I swung my legs over the side of the cot despite every muscle in my body protesting, and just sat for a few minutes as a wave of vertigo hit me. 

"Are you sure you should be trying this?" Dorian asked. "You do know you don't have to carry on this rugged individualist thing for my sake." 

"I'm working on the theory that the sooner I make my body start moving again, the sooner it'll resign itself to the idea and cooperate." I paused and added, "Plus I'd rather be able to make it to the facilities myself than require any of you to help with that." 

Dorian smoothed his moustache. "I must concur those are both admirable goals. Proceed when ready, amatus." 

I took a few deep breaths (which hurt) and stood up, staggering slightly as another vertiginous wave hit and passed. My body made another strident protest that it was being unspeakably abused after being punched everywhere all at once, but I managed to remain standing. I just needed to wait a few more minutes before attempting to move. 

"By the Archon's black hat, Kai, there's a sort of a lady present, you know," Kaeso yelped. 

I blinked at him and said, "Huh?" 

"You do know you've nothing on below the waist. Have you no sense of decorum?" He sounded aghast, but I knew he was full of it. 

"Kaeso, Fadik couldn't care less, not to mention who do you think took my things off in the first place? Dorian's seen it all before, and my sense of modesty was forcibly removed the _first_ time I nearly got killed. That leaves only your delicate sensibilities, and I happen to know you don't have any." I felt slightly breathless after making that long a speech while continuing to stand. 

"Besides, the shirt hides almost everything," Dorian pointed out. 

Kaeso eyed Fadik suspiciously. "You couldn't care less?" 

She smiled at him. "My levels of not caring are legendary. I am neither offended nor titillated because both of those would suggest some trace of interest." 

He frowned at all of us. "Well, you certainly know how to take the fun out of a thing." 

"So sorry, Kaeso," I said. "However, I'm really not thrilled at the idea of walking around bare-arsed, so if you could help me, Dorian?" 

He could and did; I needed him there to hang onto. I felt weak and off-balance and was winded enough at the end that I had to sit heavily on the bed again for a few minutes. It was a little scary, to be honest. I'd never experienced anything like it from spellcasting. 

I managed to make it across the room to where they'd crafted makeshift chairs out of crates and pillows (Dorian having commandeered the only real chair to park by my bedside), though it left me winded, achy, and slightly dizzy. I sat again, feeling annoyed with my body for lacking the resilience I wanted from it. 

"Here." Fadik handed me a bottle. "I know you don't like wine, but try choking down one of these. It might help." 

I eyed it suspiciously. "I suspect the amount of healing potion in it is negligible enough that I'd do just as well with a few slugs of hard liquor." 

She shrugged. "Up to you, but this is all the healing potion Spindly's managed to find." 

Kaeso gave her a death look. "I note you're happy enough to shovel all the food I found down that oversized gullet of yours. Perhaps _you_ should go out foraging next." 

"Kaeso, give it a rest. I feel like shite and you're not helping," I said. "And speaking of shite…" I took a deep breath and exhaled so I wouldn't accidentally smell it, then downed about half the bottle of wine in four gulps. I couldn't help making a revolted face. "Maker, that's foul! How you people can honestly like it is beyond me." 

Dorian shook his head mournfully. "I've seen him react the same way to wine that would make a sommelier weep just to be given the chance to catch a momentary whiff of the bouquet." 

I made an unimpressed noise. "I'm sorry, but I shall never be able to fathom why so many people place such stock and social status on what's just a load of fermented grapes no matter how you pretty it up." 

Kaeso smirked. "Don't worry, Kai, I'm sure Dorian still loves you despite your handicap." 

"Never mind that — how are you feeling?" Dorian said. 

"A little better," I admitted. Another deep breath and I downed the rest of the bottle, trying hard not to taste it. "Mind you, it could just be that I'm now rather drunk, in which case I could have had the hard booze and spared myself the torture of having to taste that." 

I managed to eat a little then insisted on a trip to the washroom. Dorian insisted on accompanying me, and it was a good thing he did. I was wobbly enough, I might have hit the ground on the long trek there and back otherwise. It was enough to completely wipe me out again. 

Dorian helped me back to the cot, suggesting I take the arm off while I rested. I'd had it on long enough that I was probably pushing my luck, so I agreed, with the admonition that he guard it with his life. He promised, I removed it, gave it to him for safekeeping, and promptly fell asleep. 

The next time I opened my eyes, I turned over to find Kaeso parked in the chair by my cot. He was glaring at me. 

I sat up, pleased to find my muscles weren't protesting quite as much, and said, "What? Something bothering you? And can I at least have some water first if there is?" 

He got me a bottle and thudded back into his chair. "Why did I not know this about you?" 

"Know what?" 

He waved in the direction of my left arm. "That." 

"Why should you?" 

"Because even _ox girl_ knew." 

"I heard that," Fadik said from the cot she was lying on. 

"Oh, who cares?" Kaeso snapped. "Were you missing the arm last year too?" 

"Yes. Why does it bother you so much?" 

"Because he's dismayed to find he doesn't know everything after all," Dorian said as he entered from the hall, warding the door behind him. "Next he'll have to admit he's fallible." 

"Bite your tongue, Pavus, I admit nothing of the sort," Kaeso said, turning his glare on Dorian. " _He_ won't even let me look at your false arm." 

"I repeat—why should you?" I said. 

"Because I want to see how it fooled me," Kaeso said. 

"You'll just have to keep wondering, Kaeso. You're not touching my arm. You'd probably accidentally on purpose damage it somehow." 

"You wound me, Kai, you really do," he said, contriving to look wounded. 

"Better you than my arm." 

"Can I see the stump then?" 

I squinted at him. "For the third time, why should you?" 

"Indulge me." 

"Find me coffee and I'll consider it." 

He stood, said, "Good. I'll be back," and slipped out the door. 

"You know he's going to come back with coffee now," Dorian said. 

"I'm counting on it. I really don't care if he looks at my arm; I just don't want him near the prosthesis." 

I stood with an involuntary groan as my body protested, but it wasn't as bad as the last time. Dorian offered to help, but I managed to make it to a seat by myself. 

He sat down next to me, asking again how I felt. 

"Like I've been kicked repeatedly, and I'm still freakishly tired," I said quietly. "Is this normal? I've never spellcast myself nearly to death before." 

"I've never seen anyone do it," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "As you may have noticed, Magisters are not a particularly altruistic lot. However, since you literally pulled your own life energy out of yourself, I don't imagine it's unexpected. You'll just have to give it time; that much I know." 

"I was afraid you'd say that. Would it be out of line for me to self-medicate with alcohol, do you think?" 

"We can't set out again until you feel up to it, so go right ahead. I'm hardly going to argue with you considering the reason you feel like this." 

I smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that." 

"I know," he said with a return smile. "I'll get you a beer. _Venhedis_ , I do wish they'd thought to clear some of the dust out of this place; every time I move a finger in here I get smudged." 

He handed me the beer and sat again. 

I took a drink and said, "Damn. Should have asked you to get my arm while you were up. Sorry." 

"Allow me," Fadik rolled off her cot and fetched my arm on her way to pull up a seat across from us. "I can't sleep anyway. Been trying for an hour solid with no luck." 

"And yet it's so comfortable and homey here," Dorian said. 

Fadik chuckled. "It's a damn sight better than that dungeon room." Her face grew solemn as she met eyes with both of us. "Now that Spindly's out of earshot, I wanted to thank you both for freeing me and—and tell you I'm sorry. If I'd had any idea it was you outside the door I _never_ would have-" 

"We know," I said. I propped my arm up next to me but didn't put it on yet, trying to be mindful of Ademar's admonition to let the real arm breathe now and then. 

"No permanent harm done," Dorian added. "As Kai pointed out last night, it did remind me I need to brush up on my dodging skills."

“And have a serious talk with Alectius about his choice of armourers,” I added. “You may as well have not been wearing any.”

“Or it would have been worse without it,” Dorian said.

“If you won’t switch to heavier armour, I insist you let me harden any new pieces before you wear them from now on.”

He nodded. “Under the circumstances, I’m not inclined to argue.” 

" _Is_ there no permanent harm done?" Fadik said dubiously. 

" _I_ feel fine, thanks to Kai. Have you tried casting again?" Dorian asked me. 

"Not since that first attempt," I admitted. "It hurt enough, I'm a little scared to. I feel like I need to at least wait until I don't feel like I was the punching bag in a city-wide sparring practice." I took another drink. It was starting to take the edge off my aches and pains and I welcomed the blanket of numbness it was imparting. 

Dorian reached over to rub my back one-handed, and that helped too. 

"As long as we're not going anywhere for a time yet, may I ask you a question?" Dorian said to Fadik. 

She got herself a bottle of liquor and nodded. "Ask away. You deserve any answers I can give you." 

"However did you end up in here? Your partner Cam has been going mad with worry since your disappearance." 

"He has? That's sweet of him," she said with a smile. "You've seen him, then?" 

"He found _us_ in Tevinter," I said. 

“You’ve got to be kidding. You mean he went all the way to Minrathous to find you?” 

“All the way to Qarinus,” Dorian corrected.

She shook her head disbelievingly. “ _Vashedan_. That mad, idiot elf could have gotten himself killed or worse.”

"We even went down to the Marches to help him look for you," I said. 

"You did? How deep into the Marches? Not all the way to the Tourney site, I hope." 

"Worse. Wildervale," Dorian said with a dramatic shudder.

Fadik chuckled. “You’ve seen Brod, then.”

“And Arvid,” I added.

“We survived an entire night there,” Dorian said.

“I’ve had the pleasure too. The locals were not delighted,” Fadik said drily. 

"Cam's staying at my house in Hasmal now. Still trying to find out what happened to you. He has all your things that you left at the Tourney," I said. 

"Damn. That's even sweeter of him." She sighed. 

“So what _did_ happen?” Dorian asked.

"There's not a lot to tell. I made a stupid mistake and trusted someone I knew wasn't trustworthy." 

"Cam said he saw you talking or perhaps arguing with another Qunari?" I prompted.  

Fadik nodded. "Senahan is his name. He's Vashoth—unlike me, he never was a part of the Qun. He's a born and raised Marcher. I met him about a year after I got to the Marches. We'd both hired on as muscle to guard a caravan going from Markham to Rialto in Antiva. We got on well enough and kept in touch here and there after that run ended. Sometimes we put each other onto available jobs. He only had one real vice, but it was a problem at times." 

"Would that be wine, women or games of chance?" Dorian said. 

Fadik smiled grimly. "The third. I'm sure I don't have to tell you the sort of troubles it caused him." 

"So I'm guessing he wanted you to help him with something his gambling had gotten him into?" I said, opening another beer. With the alcohol helping to cover things, I felt almost back to normal. At least, as long as I stayed seated. 

"You guess right. He wanted me to join him and another partner name of Radnor on a job. I have to admit it sounded a little sketchy, but the payoff was enough I'd damn near be able to retire. _He_ would be able to pay off his gambling debt and have a little money left to start the whole thing over again. All we needed to do was make our way to a Tevinter city called Madauros and liberate an artifact that Radnor's people were interested in acquiring." 

"Assuming it’s the same artifact, how many people are after this thing?" Dorian wondered. "Did they tell you what it was?" 

"No, just that they wanted it, and to their minds Tevinter had no business keeping it." 

"Cam said you didn't seem happy, though. I'd have thought the idea of making enough to retire would have been delightful," I said. 

She grunted. "Yeah. Normally it would. But I had a bad feeling about it that I should have heeded. Senahan is as amoral as Spindly, but without as much wit and charm. Normally I would have told him to pound it no matter how good the pay, but I couldn't. Along with his offer came a counter-offer." 

"I take it the counter-offer was more dire than threatening to rearrange your furniture on random nights while you sleep?" Dorian asked. 

"You could say that," she said with a short laugh. Her expression turned grim. "Kai, you remember Cam and I told you about the job we met on?" 

"The one where you had half a nobleman's private army after you? Yes." 

She huffed out a sigh. "Well, said nobleman is apparently still on the rampage about that. Senahan said flat out if I didn't go along with him, he'd hand me over to the bastard." 

I raised an eyebrow. "And you just stood there and took that?" 

"No choice," she snarled. "He had backup every time I saw him. He knew damn well I'd kill him otherwise."

“Is his threat the reason you left so precipitously? It’s not like you to leave everything like that,” I said.

She nodded, expression sour. “Senahan came up to me that morning claiming we had to leave _right now._ Bastard swore he’d arranged to have my things fetched and put in storage at a facility in Kirkwall — gave me a name and address and everything. I said I needed to get my sword and that’s when he insisted I leave it. I told him he was mad if he thought I was going to do that.”

“I’m honestly surprised you did,” I said. 

"He introduced me to the third member of our party — a pretty blond man named Radnor. Radnor's a mage, and after talking to him for a few minutes, I found myself agreeing it would be best to leave my sword behind.”

“Mind magic?” Dorian said.

“That’s what it sounds like,” I agreed.

Fadik scowled. “I realized later that’s what it was. At the time it sounded so reasonable. Radnor insisted between he and Senahan and his retainers, I didn't need to be armed until we got to our destination. You’d think he didn't trust me."

"So there was nothing about your sword triggering traps here?" I asked. 

She wrinkled her nose at me. "What led you to believe that?" 

"You left notes. Mostly in Qunlat. We had a go at translating them, but Qunlat's a bitch. It looked in one section like that's what it was saying." 

"Nah, that was just me making note of agreeing to no sword. _Stupid!”_ She drove her right fist into her left palm.

“Not stupid. Influenced,” Dorian said.

“I should never have put myself into that situation in the first place. Anyway, traps was a separate note, because they said there were going to be traps." 

" _Is_ there a back door to the city centre?" Dorian asked. "That's what it seemed to say. Something about an underground passage?" 

"Calling it a passage is generous," Fadik said with a snort. "More like a muddy crawlspace infested with every damned thing with multiple legs the maker could stuff in the space provided. Occasionally you'd get the chance to wash some of the mud off in the sections where you had to swim." 

"So there _was_ water," I said, pleased we had at least gotten some of it right. "What about avoiding the pillars?" 

"Pillars?" she echoed. "Oh – that was just a note meaning if we saw the Hundred Pillars, we'd gone too far." 

"Please, I _have_ to know," Dorian said eagerly, " _was_ there a need for a whirling boot tree?" 

"A what?" 

"Damn," Dorian said. I probably looked as disappointed as he did. 

"A whirling boot tree," I said. "At least, that's the closest we could come. I don't have your original notes on me." 

Her brow creased in thought. Finally she shook her head, "No, I can't think how you might have gotten that. It sounds much more interesting than whatever I actually wrote." 

"So you obviously made it to Madauros," I said. "What happened?" 

Fadik scowled. "We crawled through that blasted tunnel, came out in an unused section of the catacombs—as you've seen, there are many—and followed the map Radnor had. We followed that son of a bitch right into a trap. There was a fat Vint (sorry, guys) waiting for us with a bloody squadron. Radnor said, _Here are the Qunari I promised you_ and left with the Vint while his soldiers trussed us up good and marched us down to the dungeon where you found me."

“Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through for just the two of you,” Dorian observed.

“Pictor seems to go through a lot of them. Maybe he has some sort of standing offer people know about?” I hazarded.

“I heard them talking. There was supposed to be a third member — another Vashoth — but he never showed. Maybe this Pictor guy pays that well?” Fadik said. 

"Any idea what happened to the others?" I asked. I could swear I’d heard or seen the name _Senahan_ somewhere, but I couldn’t think where. 

She shrugged. "No idea. I assume Radnor got paid off and left. Or he lives here for all I know. Senahan might still be locked up or he might be dead. Never heard a thing. Once they waited until I was asleep then hauled me from my cell. Don't know what they were up to, but they stuck me in another cell, pumped a pile of rank-smelling air in and watched me for a few hours. Then they dragged me back to the cell." 

"They were conducting experiments. The fellow in charge is trying to develop an agent that will target Qunari. Fortunately the one they tried on you didn't work," I said. 

"Bastards. I kept expecting them to come for me again, but no one did. So I tried to keep fit and planned for getting the drop on them when they finally opened the door." 

"Well, you certainly did that," Dorian said wryly. 

She shook her head. "I would have failed. I took you out—and I apologize for that—but half a second later Kai knocked me into next year without a thought. I couldn't move quickly enough to counter a second mage." 

"You'll excuse me if I'm pleased about that," I said. 

"Pleased about what?" 

We turned to see Kaeso pushing the door closed. He was carrying a sack the size of a loaf of bread in one hand, a large bucket loaded with more alcohol in the other. He brandished the bag at us. "Coffee. It's even ground. I figured you could heat the water, so I've fulfilled my part of the bargain. What are you pleased about?" 

"That Fadik didn't manage to kill me as well," I said. "Did you happen to find a coffee press or anything?" 

"You didn't ask." 

"Fine, camp coffee it is." I sighed. 

"First you keep your part of the bargain," he said. "You're looking much better, I must say." 

"I'm sitting still and covering things up with alcohol," I corrected. "Now get over here and satisfy your curiosity. Dorian, take my arm so he doesn't get grabby and overstep his bounds." 

Dorian took the arm as Kaeso pretended offense. "You know, I've never given you reason to trust me so little, Kai. I'm very hurt." 

"We get along so well because I know not to trust you entirely, Kaeso. I'm sure you'll get over your hurt in time." I was wearing a sleeveless undershirt, so didn't have to do anything but hold my left arm out. 

He looked it over carefully. "May I touch it?" 

"Go ahead." 

He ran a hand over and around the stump. "Fascinating. There are no scars. How did you manage that? You didn't with your left side." 

"You saw that?" 

He glanced up at me. "I was following Ox Girl's directions and loosening your clothing. You obviously aren't immune to scarring, so?" 

"The arm was magically removed." 

"Really?" He ran his hand around my arm again, almost caressing it. It was a little creepy, considering how intensely he was staring at it.

“Why would someone want to remove your forearm? It seems an oddly specific sort of attack.”

“It's a long story,” I said, “and right now I need coffee and don't feel like telling the story to you.”

“Fair enough, I don't know that I really care all that much.” He let go and handed me the bag of coffee. 

I set it down long enough to attach my arm.

He watched intently, breaking into a slow grin. "Is the illusion magic built in?" he asked. 

I nodded. "I don't suppose you have something like cheesecloth, do you?" 

"I could take off my sock," he offered. 

"Please, don't bother." I poured some of the ground coffee into the bottom of a cup, added water and asked Dorian to cast a heat spell on it, as I was still skittish about trying one on my own. I'd just have to wait for the coffee to settle once it was done and remember not to drink that last swallow.


	72. A Few Moments of Quiet

It didn't take long for me to feel like I needed to lie down again. It was aggravating, but wasn't the sort of thing I could fight. I slept a few hours, got up again and kept to more or less that pattern for…I can’t really say. We had no idea how much time had passed. It was at least two days or more, if we judged by the number of times Kaeso disposed of Fadik’s meals. The only thing that kept me from being thoroughly cross was I did feel marginally better each time I got up. 

While I was preoccupied trying to get back to some level of functionality, the others were stuck waiting. Kaeso was the worst about it, of course, monitoring my slow recovery with undisguised impatience. He spent a great deal of time exploring the labyrinth of the undercity and writing notes to himself in a small ledger. Fadik started going on exploratory trips of her own, sometimes accompanied by Dorian, who was getting just as restive as everyone else. There were only so many games of cards and dice one could play before getting rather sick of it.

Finally, when the others were sleeping, I dared to make a solo foray to the facilities at the end of the hall. 

For a wonder, I made it there and did what I needed without feeling too done in, so while I had some privacy I decided to have another go at spellcasting. I'd only be at half power or less until I could comfortably do so. 

The healing spell I tried last had proven to be too much, so I kept it even simpler, casting a small light spell. It hurt—Andraste's tits, did it hurt—but not as much as the first time and I did manage to cast the spell. 

Unlike my normal lights, it was a weak little thing. It glowed yellowish and diffuse for maybe a half a minute and winked out. The ordeal left me gasping and needing to sit down, but any progress was encouraging. I'd been a little scared I may have permanently damaged something, but it seemed I was slowly healing. 

Too slowly for Kaeso's taste, I was sure, but there was nothing I could do about that. 

The door started to open and I felt a moment of panic, as I would have been hard pressed to fight off an angry nug right then. 

"It's just me, amatus." Dorian's voice preceded him into the room. He cast a soft light and warded the shut door. "I saw you were gone and—" 

"Thought you should check?" I finished. "Probably just as well. When I saw that door opening, I realized there's really fuck-all I can do to defend myself at the moment. I didn't even think to bring a crossbow." 

"Why didn't you wake me?" 

"I wanted to see if I could do it myself. And I didn't want anyone hearing me make _venhedis, that hurts_ noises." 

He _tsk_ ed at me. "See, this is your _I have to do all the things on my own_ obsession again. The same one that told you drinking pools of ancient elven priest was a good idea." 

"It's not the same thing," I objected as he sat next to me. "I've actually been rather scared about how badly this took me out. I feel like I'm not bouncing back as quickly as I should." 

He shook his head, looked at me with an expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "Kai, it's only been a few days. It is quite reasonable not to have bounced all the way back yet."

“It hurts when I spellcast. That’s never happened before. It’s…frightening. Have you heard of that happening to others?” I fretted.

“Amatus, you pushed enough raw power through every channel you possess, it would probably be a wonder if it _didn’t_ hurt, particularly considering you’re not intrinsically adept at healing. It’s perfectly natural that you’d need some time to recover from that,” he said with a patient smile. 

I sighed. "It’s probably all the healing spells and potions giving me unrealistic expectations. We've always had access to them. You just get used to recovering quickly from things that should have been debilitating, if not lethal. I mean, look at you, walking about as if nothing happened." 

I rubbed my temples with my right hand, trying to stave off the headache that was threatening. 

"I have you to thank for that," he draped an arm across my shoulders, pulling me into a loose embrace. 

I leaned into him, feeling oddly reassured by his warmth and solidity. 

"I felt you, you know," he said softly. 

"What do you mean?" 

"When you…healed me. I remember a little now. Fadik caught me flat-footed. She came out of that room so quickly and hit so hard I didn't have a moment to even register what was happening. I thought she knocked the breath out of me and then the pain struck, and I wasn't sure what was going on and…nothing." 

"No path of light through the Fade? No loving family waiting to greet you?" 

He shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. "Not even a helpful spirit guide. There was just nothing and—venhedis, how do I say this without it sounding like a bathetic song lyric—then _you_ were there. Not in a ghostly or corporeal way, you understand, but your…" 

"Essence?" 

"Yes! Exactly. You were _everywhere_ , and you stopped me. You brought me back _as_ you were healing me. It was…incredible." He paused for a moment, eyes wide and bright as if they were moments from tearing up. 

He gave his head a small, abrupt shake, swiped the back of his hand across his eyes and barked a shaky laugh. "Of course, before you or anything else could impart secrets from the other side to me, everything went black again and stayed that way until Kaeso's dulcet tones pestered me awake." 

"You returned the favour, didn't you? After I knocked myself into next year bringing you back."  

He gave me a look of surprise. "I did, though I daresay not to such a dramatic degree. What do you remember?" 

"Your death spirits were whirling around me and I was afraid that meant I'd managed to kill myself, but then…I felt you. Not everywhere like you said I was. You were…in the distance, but you were calling me. It was like you and your spirits were there to show me how to get back? Does that make sense?" 

"Yes. That's a remarkably accurate description. Kaeso said you were injured. I went to you as soon as I was coherent enough." 

"I take it I looked bad? I mean, if _Kaeso_ said something." 

He nodded. "It was rather frightening, amatus. You really did look near death. I haven't seen you like that since— since last year when you came through the eluvian." 

"That long ago," I said drily. I settled myself more comfortably against him. "I've never heard of someone using death spirits that way." 

"You know I'm not aces at healing, and when I looked to see how I could help, well, healing wasn't what you needed. You were…lost. Because you flung so much of yourself after me," he said sternly. 

"I had to," I said. "Deep down I'm just selfish. I'm not prepared to allow anything to take you away from me. It would badly interfere with my life." 

"It wouldn't have done wonders for mine, either," he said with a half-smile. "The terrifying part for me was, you were so close to death, my spirits were able to find you. They were a bit confused, but they wanted to please me, so they helped lead you back." 

"I'm glad they hold you in such high esteem," I said. 

"As am I." He pulled me in for a kiss then said, "Are you ready to go back now or do you find the ambiance in here that delightful?" 

"I suppose I could be persuaded to return to the kingdom of dust," I said. "But it's still hurting when I spellcast. Not as badly, but at this rate it'll take a bloody month before I'm back to normal." 

"You don't know that, amatus. I repeat: it's been a few days.” 

“It feels longer than that,” I complained. “I’m sure it’s been even worse for all of you. Or I should say, you and Fadik, since Kaeso’s made his suffering loudly public.”

Dorian chuckled. “You're just impatient. Well, that and this is hardly the ideal setting to recover from life-threatening trauma, especially with Kaeso carrying on the way he does. I can try a sort of healing spell on you, if you like." 

I sighed, which turned into a yawn. "Why not? It couldn't hurt…could it? Maker, I hate this shite." 

He gave me a one-armed hug before moving away to stand. 

"I'm going to try something a little different. I’ve been thinking about it these last few days and I believe I’ve determined exactly how to do it." His face took on that delightfully enthusiastic look he gets when talking about magic and magical theory. "That is, if you don't mind." 

I raised an eyebrow. "I trust you, of course, but how different?" 

"I want to go somewhat deeper than a normal healing. I watched what the professional healer did when that infection from the spider-thing was killing you last year, and she explained the mechanism. Rather than just telling your body to heal itself, I want to encourage it to…well, put a little more fine tuning into it, I suppose. It's a difference in intent, you know?" 

I nodded. "I get the idea, though I can't say I'm pleased that you learned this the _last_ time I was half-dead. Do you know there are people who go their entire lives without anything more serious than a bad flu? Do you know before I got on that boat heading for Justinia's conclave I used to be one of them?" 

"Well, technically you haven't gotten conventionally _ill_ the entire time I've known you." 

"That makes me feel so much better." 

He smiled, eyes shining. "So, may I? I think I may be able to help more with this method, since it's more akin to mind magic with a chaser of necromancy than true healing. I think with the depth we're already connected, your body might listen." 

I gave him a wry smile. "Fire at will. I’m just as sick of waiting this out as the rest of you." 

Dorian put a hand on each of my shoulders and took a deep breath as he started casting. 

Given our connection, as he was crafting and implementing the spell on me, I was able to follow most of what he was doing, and I was impressed. As he said, it was a subtle but important difference in intent that he was weaving into the spell, which wasn't a classic healing spell, but a rather odd blend of spirit and mind magic coloured by his necromantic abilities. The amount of true healing magic involved was little enough that even I would have been able to handle it. 

To put it in very simplistic terms (since trying to describe the theory behind it would be unspeakably dull), rather than the standard approach to healing, which one could liken to throwing a bag of tools to your body and hollering at it to get itself healed _right now_ , he was doing the equivalent of handing it the tools nicely and spending a few moments explaining how he wanted it to heal things and how it could best go about that, even though it had already worn itself out trying to heal on its own. It was a very delicate, pretty piece of spellcasting that I wouldn't have been able to replicate, as I lack the necessary depth of nuance when it comes to combining spirit and necromantic magicks. I'll never be more than a _throw the tools and shout a lot_ sort of healer, I'm afraid. 

Once he finished, he took his hands away and sat down heavily, saying, " _Venhedis_ , that was trickier than I expected." 

"That was also bloody impressive," I said. "Have you been practicing? I don't recall you having that level of subtlety before." 

He’d leaned his head back against the wall and now rolled it to the side just enough to look at me. "I have been. Ever since watching that healer last year, it got me wondering how much I might be capable of. I'd spent so much time on conventional necromancy and the combat side of things, I'd never tried variations that might aid healing. Honestly, it's not something I've ever seen suggested in any of the books." 

"Probably because you have to throw in the spirit magic and a touch of healing to make it work," I said. "Not many mages are able to do that, and a lot of them wouldn't give a nug's arse about healing anyone even if they could." 

He chuckled. "True. I'd never felt the need either until you kept nearly getting yourself killed." 

"Well, at least my near deaths have served the cause of magical advancement," I said around another yawn. 

"You really needn't be quite so dedicated to presenting a need for such spells," Dorian said, setting his arm back across my shoulders. "Though I must say that's one of the things I love about magic—there's always something more to learn." 

"Agreed. Maker, you wouldn't believe how…stretched thin I feel. I know something like that is going to take some time to kick in, but I already appreciate it. Thank you." 

He smiled crookedly. "Thank me when it starts working. You know, we really should stand up and leave." 

"Mm hm." It took us a few more minutes to put that thought into practice, but we did make it back to our dusty base camp. The others were still asleep, so we quietly moved our cots together and fell into them. I don't know about Dorian, but I think I was asleep within a minute of my head hitting the pillow.


	73. For Every Action...

"Well, don't they just look precious." 

That was Kaeso, of course. Awake and snarking as usual. 

A musical trill meant Fadik was practicing with her new sword. "You're likely just jealous, Spindly." 

"Of that? I do not require such cozy togetherness, druffalo-breath." 

"Oh, stop whinging. They just pushed their cots together. It's not like they're doing each other in front of us." The sword trilled happily. It rather made me miss Swivet. 

"It would be more interesting if they were," Kaeso said. "But I suppose you'd object to that, wouldn't you?" 

"On the grounds that it's tacky, I might," she said placidly. 

I sat up and was pleased to find it barely hurt at all. "You know at least one of them can hear you," I tried to say quietly. 

"Both of them," came Dorian's muffled voice. He was buried as deeply in the covers as he could get, with only his hair visible. 

"Good. It's about time you got up," Kaeso groused. 

"Well, if you're so bloody awake, why don't you do something useful and make coffee?" I said. 

"Me?" He looked utterly baffled. 

"Yes, you. Coffee. Now. You consider yourself bright, don't you? I'm sure you can figure out how to do that." 

"Fasta vass, you _are_ beastly when you first wake up, aren't you?" 

"Best do as he says," Dorian said, still not extricating himself from his cocoon, "He's probably feeling much better." 

"Oh, very well," Kaeso said with an exaggerated sigh. "If it will get you up and moving, I'll do it. _Anything_ to get us out of this grotty little room." 

I leaned back against the wall and watched Kaeso construct my coffee through half-closed eyes. I felt remarkably better, but knew to be careful not to push myself. On the cot next to me, Dorian tried to burrow more deeply under his blankets. At the back of the room Fadik was going through a series of combat exercises, her sword sounding merry accompaniment. It all felt oddly comfortable and domestic. 

"Why am I heating water when we have two people here who can do it with a thought?" Kaeso complained. 

"Because one of them can't spellcast quite yet and the other's not awake. Besides, you're proving to us that you don't need magic to function," I said lazily. 

"Excuse me, but Dorian is awake," Kaeso countered. 

"No, he's not," came Dorian's muffled voice. 

"Just make the coffee, Spindly. _Vashedan_ , I've never heard anyone complain as much as you." Fadik's sword trilled accompaniment in a minor key that matched her tone. 

"Do we have to bring her along? Don't you want to go home and polish your horns?" Kaeso said. 

"And bring you untold happiness? Sorry, that ship sailed. I'm with you for the duration," Fadik said cheerfully. 

Kaeso brought me my coffee with an overly-solicitous, "Anything else, Dominus?" 

I just thanked him nicely, figuring he'd been nettled enough for the moment. Also, it turned out he made a good cup of coffee under the circumstances. Once I'd finished it, I slid carefully off the end of my cot, trying not to disturb Dorian who, against all odds, appeared to have fallen back asleep. 

I stood and, aside from a moment of vertigo, felt…good. I still felt rather drained and lightheaded, but the aches and horrible exhaustion were gone. I was going to have to thank Dorian properly as soon as there was an opportunity, even if it took all night. I even felt hungry for the first time and made my way to the makeshift larder the others had put together. 

Kaeso was right there, being terrifyingly helpful, offering everything from more coffee to breakfast. I took him up on it, since I knew his solicitousness was all about getting us back on his mission, not any real concern for my well-being. 

He made me more coffee and put together something simple to eat (I was a little surprised he knew how to cook; it seemed like a very un-Kaeso skill). He sat next to me drinking his own coffee, a faint smile on his lips that was making me slightly nervous. 

Sure enough, once I'd eaten most of my food and poured another cup of coffee, he checked to make sure the others weren't near (Dorian was still asleep and Fadik had left the room) and said softly, "Kai, now that you’re feeling better, can I ask you something?" 

"Of course you can. Doesn't mean I'm going to answer." 

He gave a brisk nod and leaned in closer. "When you and Dorian are fucking, do you ever get him primed the usual way, you know, giving him a good pounding, getting right up in there, then pull out and use your stump?" 

I stared at him. 

Eyes bright with cheery curiosity, he persisted. "You know, just grease it up and sliiiiiiiide it in? It's not like you'd have to worry. I mean, if you tore anything you just cast a healing spell. How deep have you gone?" 

"Kaeso." 

"There's just so much I don't know. You can't tell me you haven't at least considered it. Is the elbow a problem? Is that it?" 

" _Kaeso_ ," I said a little more forcefully, " _Fasta vass,_ even if we'd done anything of the sort I'm bloody well not going to tell you." 

"But how will I ever learn?" he pouted at me. 

"You're clever. I'm sure if you really want to know, you can find a way to experience it for yourself." 

"I'd rather watch you two." 

I took a drink of coffee. "KAESO. Leave. Now." 

"How long do you stay grumpy when you first get up? Fine, I'm sorry. I'll let you alone." He contrived to look contrite, but when he walked away he had a smirk on his face. Sometimes I really wonder why I find him so likeable. 

He circled back and murmured in my ear, "Did the thought make you hard? I’ll wager it did." 

I fired an electric bolt and got the satisfaction of making him yelp and glare at me. "Don't push it, Kaeso. I don't like you that much." 

He grinned. "That means you _do_ like me. If you'll excuse me, I need to go see what you singed." 

"Don't hurry back." 

As he walked out the door, Fadik walked in. "What's _he_ looked so pleased about?" 

I shook my head. "Just Kaeso being Kaeso." 

"Where do you even _meet_ people like that?" 

I laughed. "Believe it or not, in a roundabout way it was Divine Victoria who introduced us." 

"Am I right in assuming the story behind that is complicated?" 

"You remember. I'm touched." 

She sat across from me. "It was a memorable trip. You know, I don't think I've thanked _you_ yet for getting me out of that stinking dungeon room. Kaeso said it was you who insisted on finding me." She snorted. "And look how I repaid you." 

"You didn't know. And he's fine, so I'm fine with forgiving you." 

"And if he hadn't been fine?" 

I shook my head. "Let's not go there." 

"All right. But I owe you—both of you. And I always pay my debts." 

"You don't have to come with us on this little adventure, you know. You'd be well within your rights to request we take you to the nearest exit and get you safe passage back south." 

She smiled. "No, I'm curious to see what happens and I'd like to lend a hand. Besides, it will annoy Spindly." 

I laughed. "Then we're glad to have you." 

We reminisced about the job we'd done together for a while until we heard Dorian stirring. The cot creaked and he came shuffling over, yawning, his blanket wrapped around him like a flannel cloak. "Is there any of that coffee left? It is a testament to how tired I feel that I'll even drink it black." 

I set about making him some as Fadik asked, "What happened last night?" 

"Dorian tried a new healing spell on me," I said. "It worked wonders." 

"It also took more out of me than I expected." Dorian yawned again. "Even that ramshackle torture device they call a cot felt comfortable." 

I handed him his coffee and a container of sugar. "Here. You can sully your coffee to your heart's content and I won't even make pained faces. You want something to eat?" 

"Not until it doesn't take a degree of concentration to keep my eyes open. Ugh." 

We sat in comfortable silence until the door opened. Kaeso walked into the room, took one look at Dorian and burst out laughing. 

Dorian glared at him. "Something amusing you?" 

"You're _rumpled_. Wrapped in that blanket, you look like my old granny, right down to the moustache." 

"I shall not deign to react to that. Kai, I demand you stop smiling this very moment." 

"I've always rather liked it when you look rumpled," I protested. I couldn't stop the smile completely. 

"Both of you are churlish and unrefined," Dorian pronounced. 

He finished his coffee, deposited his blanket back on his cot and grabbed his toiletry kit. He needed a shave and his hair was standing up in little spikes and corkscrews that were even more pronounced with the light shining behind him; I had to clamp down on a very unrefined snicker. 

"I shall return. Perhaps by then your bout of hilarity will have subsided." He strode out the door. 

Kaeso and I looked at each other and burst out laughing again. Fadik was smiling faintly, but with the look people have when they know they're not getting the whole joke. 

With alarming suddenness, Kaeso switched moods from amused to coldly impatient. "So are we going to be able to get _moving_ finally? Madame Druffalo has cost us a ridiculous amount of time. I think I've been remarkably patient, considering I've had to share this stuffy little room with you all for days now." 

I gave him a hard look back. "We'll have to see if Dorian feels up to it. You've waited this long, a little longer won't kill you. I'm sick of this room too, but no one is going to leave until everyone feels ready." 

He sighed huffily. "I don't know why everyone says you're so nice. I can't say anything without getting this _attitude_ from you." 

"Did it ever occur to you that you might have something to do with that?" 

He _hmph_ ed at me and took one of his wine-healers out of the makeshift larder. "You see this, Kai? You are driving me to drink. I hope you're happy." 

He sat and drank, looking perfectly content. 

=#= 

When Dorian got back, once again looking like his impeccable self, we had a little conference over by our cots. 

"Are you sure you're up to this? I don't want you dropping in the middle of a firefight because you're trying to act all manly or something," I said. 

He grinned. "Now there's something I don't get accused of often. But honestly, amatus, I'm confident I don't need another day. You know, I could ask the same of you. Just because you _think_ you're all the way back…" 

"I'm ready. For one thing, I've had it with this room. Everyone's getting squirrely, and the longer we stay the more chance of getting discovered." I waved Fadik over. 

"What's up?" she asked. 

"This is your last chance," I said. "We're ready to move out, but if you like we can see about getting you up to the surface and out of Madauros." 

She smiled. "That would be easier said than done. I'll take my chances with you. No matter what Spindly thinks, you might need my help." 

I nodded. "Well, Dorian and I appreciate it." Dorian made a noise of agreement. "I guess we should make Kaeso's day then." I raised my voice and called him. 

"All done with your little private confab?" he said snarkily. 

"Keep that tone and we might change our minds. We had just decided we're ready to head out," I said. 

"Maker above, next we'll hear that Andraste herself has come back and opened an all-nude review featuring a cast of Chantry sisters and brethren for our viewing pleasure." He stood up, downed the last of his wine-healer and said, "Well? Let's go." 

"Mind if we get our things together first?" Dorian said. "I know you're all aflutter, but some of us have important grooming items to pack." 

"Perhaps we should tidy up the room too," Kaeso sneered. 

"That's a very good idea," I said. "No reason to leave a mess." 

While we did that, Kaeso parked himself on a chair, arms folded across his chest, and refused to stir or speak. By the time we were done cleaning up and sorting through what to take or leave, I felt tired enough that I needed to sit on the edge of my cot. Dorian joined me, saying, "Are you still sure about this?" 

I nodded. "I'll live. I can tell I'm still a bit…off, but it's going away. Please don't stand in front of anything else that's going to kill you in future." 

"I'll do my best," he said solemnly, then smiled. "To tell you the truth, I'm not far behind you. I'm not sitting here just for your benefit. That spell last night took a surprising amount out of me." 

"I'll have to show you later how much I appreciate it," I said. 

Dorian stretched and opened his mouth to say something when Fadik roared, " _Katara!_ You little worm, I'll kill you!" 

We both leapt up as Kaeso said, "It's not my fault you're such a slow-moving lummox." 

There was a dagger sticking out of Fadik's upper left thigh that didn't seem to be impeding her as she advanced on Kaeso, who was standing there looking smug, holding his other dagger loosely. 

"Oh, for fucks sake," I swore. "Dorian, heal Fadik. I'll deal with Kaeso. _Fadik! Stop!_ Let me handle the idiot." 

"You can handle him right after I remove his head from his shoulders!" 

"Fadik," Dorian stood to one side and fired a weak flashbang to get her attention, "Please? Let Kai deal with him while I get you healed." 

The Qunari stood stock still for several moments, greatsword reflecting her anger in the pulsing red glow it was emitting. Finally, she shook her head abruptly and growled, "Fine. But only because I owe you." 

As Dorian led her over to her cot, I advanced on Kaeso. "You bloody great lunatic, what the _fuck_ was that about?" 

He was completely unruffled. "I don't know why you're so upset. Neither of _you_ got hurt when I did the same thing. It's not _my_ fault she has the reflexes of an arthritic nug." 

"Andraste's tits, you threw that at her out of the blue, didn't you." I ran a hand across my head as I thought about how to talk to him so he'd listen. 

"Yes, and she chose to catch it the hard way," he said with a smirk. 

" _Fasta vass,_ Kaeso…" I wasn't even sure where I was going with that. 

"You'll note it didn't hit one thing that would put her in any danger," he said. "I don't know why you're getting all emotional about it." 

"Maybe because we're in enemy territory and you're faffing about throwing daggers at an ally for no good reason?" I snapped. 

"It was no more than I did with you and Dorian. The only difference is _she_ just stood there like a great, stupid ox rather than intercepting it." 

I hauled him to the far end of the room so there would be no distractions. "Kaeso, it is not the same thing." 

His grey eyes—light where mine are dark—were clear and free of guilt or any other emotion. "Why not?" 

I opened my mouth to speak and stopped. To Kaeso, there was no difference. He _had_ done the exact thing with Dorian and me, and both of us had intercepted his dagger. I'd returned it to him hilt first; Dorian had sent it flying right back at him, making Kaeso dodge to avoid getting stabbed (he'd liked that). "Because she's here by happenstance, that's why." 

"Well that's my point, isn't it. She couldn't even pass a simple test." 

"She's not that kind of fighter, Kaeso, and you know that. She goes wading into the fray cracking skulls and cleaving things so the rest of us can chop the enemy to bits from the fringes. She could be a great help to us and she's _willing_." 

"I don't want her along." He had that same clear, emotionally flat look that told me he was telling the truth. 

"Why not? I don't completely understand. You're usually all for anything that gives you an advantage." 

"I didn't ask her along, Kai. This is _my_ job. I chose you and Dorian to accompany me. She wasn't supposed to be here. She doesn't understand or care about that." 

"You don't want her even if her presence means you reach your goal?" 

"You like her more than you like me." His lower lip stuck out in something perilously close to a pout. 

_Venhedis, this was starting to give me a headache._ "Kaeso, I like her _differently_ from you." I felt like I should be promising to take him out for ice cream if he'd behave. "I _love_ Dorian, and that's never bothered you." 

He made a dismissive noise. "You've _always_ been with Dorian." 

And that was the crux of it, I realized. In Kaeso's world—the only world that mattered to him—I _had_ always been with Dorian, so that was acceptable. Fadik was new, and didn't acknowledge him the way we did, so he wanted her gone. It was like a cat's reaction when you move house, except rather than scratch the furniture and throw up in your shoes, this cat threw knives at you. 

He stood there waiting for me to say something, perfectly calm now that he was being paid attention. It was easy to forget at times that he actually was dangerous if he wasn't handled correctly. I wondered how many people ever noticed that his smiles never reached his eyes. I took a deep breath. 

"Kaeso, if I explain to Fadik that this is your job we're on, would that help? I'm not sending her away, so you need to work with me." 

His eyes narrowed slightly. "I suppose. But she has to quit calling me that name." 

Maker's breath. _And after ice cream I'll take you to the park._ "Fine, I'll tell her that. But it's only fair that you stop calling her names too." 

"But she _is_ a great, stupid ox," he objected. "I don't know why you're sticking up for her. If you didn't have the reflexes you do, Dorian would have stayed dead. All I did was give her a little reminder to try being alert." 

"Kaeso. You are not that obtuse. You know what I'm going to say about that sort of reminder. If you want us to keep helping you, you need to make a few concessions. No name-calling for either one of you, and none of your tests. Throwing knives at your own party—whether you chose us all or not—is not the way to get what you want." 

"Why won't you just send her home?" 

Now he was just being annoying. _Keep this up and no bedtime story._ "Kaeso, you know why. Stop it. If it takes threats, you know very well what I could do to you if you push me." 

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, all right, if you're going to go all _magey_ on me." 

"I will. And I'll get Dorian to help me gang up on you. Now apologize to Fadik and let's put an end to this." 

He frowned. "Apologize? For her sorry reflexes?" 

"Kaeso." I gave him an implacable stare. 

"One of these days, Kai, I will forget that I am fond of you." But his customary mask of sardonic good humour was back in place.

I grinned at him. “So you admit you’re fond of me.”

“It’s a figure of speech. Don’t let it go to your head.” 

We joined Fadik and Dorian. He'd already healed the wound, but after what he'd done for me the night before, it had left him looking a little rough around the edges. 

"Fadik, Kaeso has something to say to you," I announced, moving to give him centre stage. 

He gave me an extra little glare before turning to her. "I'm told I need to apologize. So I am sorry I didn't realize I shouldn't expect you to have the same reflexes as the rest of us. I will make allowances for your greater bulk and commensurately lesser speed and natural grace and won't test you again." 

"I love such an eloquent and heartfelt expression of remorse," Dorian said lightly. 

"You try 'testing' me again, I'll cleave your skull in half, Spindly," Fadik said. 

"Um, Fadik?" I interjected. "No more calling Kaeso that. And in return he will also stop calling you names." 

"That thin-skinned, is he? Fine. Anything else?" 

"This _is_ Kaeso's job we're on, so do pay attention when he has something relevant to say." 

Fadik gave a small shrug. "Got it. Does he have anything relevant to say now?" 

We all looked at Kaeso. 

He huffed out air. "Yes. Can we _leave_ now?" 

Dorian gave him a wicked smile. "As a matter of fact, no. Because of your little stunt, I've been knocked for a proverbial loop, what with all the healing I've been doing lately in addition to recovering from my own injuries. I'm not up to it. I need another night." 

"Imagine that—actions have consequences," Fadik drawled. 

He looked from Dorian to me. I think he was honestly surprised; it hadn't occurred to him that we were both still overtaxed. 

"He's telling the truth, Kaeso," I said. "I'm not far behind him. You may as well settle in, unless you want to go find more real food." 

"I believe I'll leave you all alone so you can _rest._ " He spun around, got himself a bottle of liquor and parked himself on his cot. 

We let him drink in solitary splendour the rest of the night. Maybe next time he'd think before he acted.


	74. On the Road Again

After going to bed early and sleeping like the dead, both Dorian and I felt much better, though to tell the truth we probably would have said we did regardless. Everyone was thoroughly sick of that dusty little room. There was no way to tell what time it might be in the undercity, but within a few hours of waking, we gathered our gear and headed deeper into the labyrinth. 

I'll give Kaeso credit—he was able to lead us unerringly through the winding, branching corridors, including occasional stops to show us some of the weirder things he'd discovered (he invariably gave Fadik a dirty look when he showed us those things; I got the feeling he looked on it as a gift to Dorian and me). 

Of everything he found, I think the most unsettling was the full-sized statue of Arvid the Witless Bear.  It had no business being in Madauros’s undercity, any more than those little figurines should have been in Castra Nicia, yet there it was, big as life and twice as demented-looking. I was starting to wonder if there wasn’t some Arvid cult secretly pulling the strings of all Thedas, and made a mental note to mention it to Dorian. It didn’t make any less sense than immortal, body-jumping Magister-priests or elven gods that slept for a few millennia and woke with a serious attitude problem. 

In less than an hour we reached a ramp that spiralled down to the next level. 

As we started down, Dorian squinted ahead. "Looks alarmingly dark down there." 

"You wait. There'll be giant fucking spiders," I predicted. 

Fadik swung her greatsword. It glowed a flourish of rainbow colour and trilled a martial series of notes. "Bring 'em on." 

"You are welcome to intercept all of them," I said. 

"Kai is not a fan of oversized arachnids," Dorian explained. 

"Or any size arachnids. Or any large, multi-legged anything," I added. "That includes flying things." 

"If either of you is in the mood to recharge some of these lights, now might be a good time to start," Kaeso said as we reached the bottom. The light globes on this level were mostly dark, with just a few offering weak, sputtering illumination. 

Dorian gave me a questioning look. 

I nodded. "I'll give it a try." I was worried it would hurt, but couldn't bear the idea of not being able to cast even more. 

I took a deep breath, ignored the little frisson of panic my mind was trying to have about it hurting, and cast the recharging spell on the lights nearest us, taking care not to get too enthusiastic with this first try. It didn't hurt, though I felt — maker, how to put this — like someone had run their fingernails down the channels the magic flows through. It was a bizarre sensation. But the most important thing was the lights came on, glowing soft and steadily. Dorian took my hand and gave it a congratulatory squeeze. He understood what had just happened. 

"It appears the lights will still take a charge. Which way now?" Dorian asked. 

Kaeso frowned slightly, pulling a piece of paper out of a pocket and consulting it. "I couldn't find any maps that went this far down. We're down to the map they gave me and it's not particularly helpful. We need to head down, watching for tunnels marked with this symbol." He showed it to us: three vertical lines with a short horizontal line below and to one side of them. "It's supposed to represent a dragon's claw." 

"How very original of them," Dorian deadpanned. 

"It says if you cast undifferentiated spirit magic at them, they'll glow."

"Suggesting they made false trails with symbols that don't glow?" I said. "No wonder you needed mages." 

Kaeso gave us a tight smile. "Oh, we haven't reached the part that demands mages yet." 

"Traps? Constructs? Magical guardians?" Dorian guessed. 

"All of the above?" I added. 

"Give the man with the shaved head a prize," Kaeso said. “Though I must say, Kai, you’ve let yourself go. You’ve acquired _hair_ these past few days.”

“A temporary condition, and you know why,” I said.

“I should hope so. It’s oddly unsettling,” he replied. 

"Radnor mentioned something about traps," Fadik said, ignoring Kaeso's immediate scowl in her direction. “He didn't seem to think they'd be a problem. Of course, he may never have intended to go after the object—easier money to be made selling us off to that mad inventor." 

"We've had experience with every one of the things Dorian mentioned," I said. "As long as we all work together—" I gave Kaeso a sharp glare. "—we shouldn't find anything insurmountable. This is the same balance of people we usually used in the Inquisition when we went with small teams." 

"Unless there's something that can only be opened by, say, a pregnant elven mage," Dorian said. 

We continued down the corridor, Dorian and I taking turns recharging the lights. That scratchy feeling was slowly fading as I continued to cast, much to my relief. Poor lighting aside, this level looked like it had been largely unused for years. It was dusty, and any whitewash still on the walls was sparse and faded. Many of the side corridors that started to appear were engulfed in darkness. (Those Dorian used his staff to fire a ball of light down, just to see what might be lurking there.) Everything smelled old and musty, like dried bones. 

We saw our first mark about fifteen minutes in. It was halfway up the wall at a branching corridor. Dorian cast a spot of spirit magic at it, but it didn't glow. "First false trail? I wonder what would happen if someone walked down it anyway." 

"I, for one, can live without finding that out," I said. 

We continued walking. I moved in close to Dorian to mutter, "If we encounter any _Senex Miseria_ I'm going right back to the surface and Kaeso can get his own toy." 

Dorian smiled. "If we encounter any of those I'll be right behind you…until I pass you in my haste, that is." 

_Senex Miseria_ are hideous, insectile magical constructs. Their sting injects a poison that eats away your flesh for a few days before dissipating, leaving behind horribly painful open wounds. I'd encountered a swarm of them (and contained it behind glass until they discorporated) the year before, and that picture had never entirely left my mind. 

"Are there likely to be any non-magical guards down here?" Fadik asked. "It doesn't look like this is where the fashionable crowd hangs out." 

For a wonder, Kaeso answered her civilly. "They didn't say. I would err on the side of 'yes' when we get closer to it. Expect anything from squadrons of barely trained idiots to lyrium-enraged ogres. Considering the sorts of people that want the bloody thing, there's got to be a good reason it's still here." 

"I don't suppose your map mentions how much farther down we need to go," I said. 

"I think it's purposefully vague. I may put in a formal complaint to them. This is sub-standard information I'm having to work from." 

"You plan on complaining to the Sacer Saeculum? That I'd like to see," Dorian said with a chuckle. 

"What's that?" Fadik asked. 

"Think your classic picture of Magisters, but smarter and nastier, then cross them with the Cartas," I said. 

"Soooo ruthless criminal blood mages?" 

"That about covers it." 

She made a noise of amusement. "Fun people you run with, Sp—Kaeso." 

We saw another mark at a corridor branching to the left. I did the casting honours, and this time it glowed. 

"I suppose now we trust that your map isn't lying," Dorian said, firing another blast of bright light down the new corridor. Nothing living or otherwise mobile reacted, so he charged the lights and we entered. 

This corridor was more interesting, as it had wooden doors set at intervals. We were all bored enough of the endless, dusty hallways that we voted to investigate what might be behind them. The first door was locked. Kaeso made short work of it, but I must say it was anticlimactic once we got it open. All the room held was a small, dusty table on which was sitting a wheel of fossilized cheese. 

The second room was half empty, but starting about the middle and rising to a height of over a meter by the time it reached the back wall, was a pile of what appeared to be hair. Not scalps, thankfully, just hair. It smelled faintly rank, and as we stared at it for a moment, trying to fathom _why_ , we all saw a section deep in the pile _shift_ as though something was moving beneath it. We left quickly and Kaeso ensured the door was re-locked. 

The third room was filled with old coffins solidly constructed of shiny, black wood. We chose to believe they were empty (Kaeso, of course, wanted to check inside them, but we overruled him). The fourth door was jammed shut and nothing we tried could get it to budge. 

We reached a junction where the properly glowing sigil indicated the right-hand corridor. This one soon went downward at a steep angle. Fortunately the lights were still present and still accepted a magical charge, though they were more widely spaced with each level we descended. 

On the new level there was no whitewash on the walls, just bare stone. Everything was still well-constructed, but no one was going out of their way to make things look pretty anymore. The temperature was also dropping. Between that and there being no doors to investigate in the corridor, we picked up our pace, keeping an eye out for the next sigil. 

"You think this might join up with the Deep Roads?" Fadik asked, swinging her greatsword in a lazy arc. It trilled a small, mysterious glissando, its light trail all blues and purples. 

"There's nothing of the Deep Roads about this; it's all human-made from what I can see," said Dorian, "Which is surprising, really." 

"This is the second time I've been in tunnels under Tevinter and I haven't seen a hint of anything dwarven yet," I said. 

Kaeso snorted. "Don't know how you've managed that. Damned dwarf tunnels are everywhere. One day half of Tevinter will probably collapse into a dwarven-made sinkhole." 

"And the rest of Thedas will no doubt rejoice," Dorian added. 

"In other words, we may end up in the Deep Roads yet, but we'd rather not," I said. "I've no desire to fight Darkspawn on top of the things Kaeso's already threatened us with." 

"I did not threaten you with anything, Kai. You asked, I told you what I was told. If I were to threaten you it would be far more subtle and interesting than _watch out for monsters_ ," Kaeso said. 

"Is anyone watching for traps?" Fadik asked. 

No one answered, which I took to mean that, like me, no one had been. 

"I thought not," she said. "One of you want to see if that sigil glows?" She pointed at one next to the dark entrance to a side corridor.

Dorian fired spirit at it and nothing happened. "Shall we have a cautious look at what would have awaited us?" 

"Oooh, let's!" Kaeso rubbed his hands together. 

I cast a steady, white light and we inched into the corridor, which wasn't a corridor at all, but a deep alcove. We heard it first—a chitinous rustling coming from ahead and slightly below. "I knew there were going to be fucking bugs," I muttered. 

And were there ever. About three paces in, the floor dropped away into a pit. We peered carefully over the edge. It was filled to an unknown depth with glossy brown-black beetle-like things, each about half the length of my hand and equipped with a nasty-looking set of pincers. 

"Are they constructs, do you think?" Dorian mused. 

"I find myself not really caring," I answered. "You may want to simply live with the mystery." I backed farther away from the edge. "If you lot want to admire them, I'll meet you back in the main corridor." Taking care not to step on anything that might trigger something new and terrible, I stepped into the corridor. 

Dorian said, "I think I've had enough too, I- _kaffas!_ Everyone get out _now_!" He leapt out of the alcove, Fadik pounding after him. "Slowing spell," he explained, "I think it triggered the moment anyone left. Kaeso, _run_!" 

I saw what he meant. The spell I'd inadvertently triggered by being first out slowed anything within its radius to a crawl. In slow motion, Kaeso was running for the exit. Behind him, the beetles were boiling out of the pit (and of course they could fly). They were slowed as well, but their smaller size gave them less inertia to overcome. They'd reach Kaeso before he made it out, and if they were able to pursue him past the junction… 

"Can we negate it?" Dorian said. 

"If I cast a barrier around Kaeso while you did the entrance," I started to suggest. 

"Pfah, mages!" Fadik spat. "Hang onto me, you two." She strode back up to the entrance and stuck her left arm behind her. I held on to her arm and Dorian her belt as she leaned forward. She reached her right arm past the entrance, grabbed Kaeso by the front of his coat and heaved him out of the alcove, shouting, "Come on, Spindly!" 

He landed sprawling in the corridor as Dorian and I threw barriers across the alcove’s entrance. A moment later the beetles hit it, reminding me uncomfortably of the _Senex Miseria_ swarm. 

Kaeso leapt up, yelping as he batted at a few bugs that had managed to latch onto him. Fadik swatted them off him and stomped them flat. 

We kept the barriers up as all of us watched the swarm battering against them, Kaeso fussily straightening his clothes and dusting himself off. After about ten minutes that felt much longer, the swarm returned to the pit. We gave it a few more minutes before dropping the barriers. 

"Note to self," Dorian said, "Do not investigate unsprung traps." 

"Still sorry that Fadik's along?" I said to Kaeso. 

"I'm not unreasonable," he replied. "Anyone who saves my life is given the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps you do have more redeeming qualities than I assumed," he said to Fadik. 

She grinned. "Maybe I just wanted to throw you around like a ragdoll without you being able to complain about it." 

Dorian had knelt down to investigate one of the smashed bugs. I joined him. "Are they constructs?" 

"Hard to tell. Can I have your knife?" 

I handed it to him, admonishing, "Clean it when you're done." 

He nodded and prodded at the carcass. The legs twitched hard and I have to admit I flinched. He levitated it in front of us and spun it slowly around. "I'd vote construct. There's something almost artificial about it, don't you think?" 

I got past my dislike of all things insectile and had a closer look. "I see what you mean. It looks almost…unfinished. Maker only knows how long they've been in that pit. If they're alive, what do they eat?" 

"Precisely. And the magical triggers. They responded too uniformly to them. But does someone come down here and refresh the spells, or was the mage or mages that constructed all this that good?" 

"Did any of them cross the threshold other than the ones clinging to Kaeso?" 

Dorian considered it. "I think not. The radius of the spells keeping them 'alive' can't be too extensive. Still, I don't think I would have dropped our barriers." 

Behind us, Fadik cleared her throat. "Um, boys? If you're done with the magical theory, some of us would like to get moving." 

" _Yes_ ," Kaeso said. "This corridor has lost its appeal." 

"Sorry, but it was worth checking," I said. "Just learning that much can aid us in knowing what to watch for. If they're big on constructs, we might want to pay extra attention to potential threats that fall into that school of magic." 

Dorian handed my cleaned knife back. "If this is one of their early surprises, they might get quite nasty as we progress. You have to admit the trigger for that was rather clever." 

Kaeso smirked as we walked. "Although I was nearly the poor bastard that got it, just think — depending on the size of your party and who went in there to have a look, the first ones out could conceivably have to watch the rest of their party die a horrible death, and they'd have to leave them to it." 

"It's a pretty emphatic early warning," Fadik said. 

"As a mage, I'm not supposed to be the one bringing up this sort of thing, but we might want to keep an eye out for sources of water," I said. "Depending on how long this takes, we're very likely to run out." 

"And he's still a mage who knows the meaning of practical," Fadik said with a smile. "You're right. We can't assume everything we need will be at our fingertips just because it was several levels up in the populated areas." 

The corridor branched again and this time we couldn't see a sigil, glowing or otherwise. "When in doubt, go down," Kaeso announced. 

"Both ways are level, Spindly," Fadik said. 

He whipped around to glare at her. " _Hey!_ " 

"I saved your life, remember? You should be grateful I'm not invoking the _serve me for the rest of my days_ clause." 

"It could be arranged for that to be of very brief duration, you know." 

Fadik snorted. "You know, for all your talk, all I've seen you do is pick a few locks and throw one dagger that was nothing but a cheap move." 

"You want a _real_ demonstration?" 

Dorian and I looked at each other — things were back to normal. I gave him a brief eye-roll and said, "Kaeso. There will be no demonstrations. If half of what you've been told is true, we'll all be able to demonstrate our abilities. Let's save it for then." 

"You know I'm only half of this argument, Kai. Why is she not getting the same lecture?" 

"She is," Dorian said smoothly. "Fadik, don't bait Kaeso. Kaeso, quit reacting to Fadik. It's most unlike you. Now why don't we decide which way we're going before they find our tragically desiccated corpses in this tunnel?" 

We picked right, and it seemed that was the correct direction. At least, within five minutes we were descending another ramp, Dorian and I charging lights as we walked. The new corridor ended in a right-angled turn to the left, taking us into another corridor lined with heavy wooden doors. Right at the beginning of it was a sigil that glowed when Dorian fired spirit magic. 

We considered checking behind these new doors, but when we approached the first one we heard…noises behind it. They weren't nice noises. Even Kaeso agreed those doors were best left alone. We hastened down the corridor and followed a glowing sigil down a curving ramp. When we got to the bottom, there were no more lights to charge. Dorian and I took turns casting light and we continued on down corridors of increasingly rough-hewn stone. 

About the time we were all feeling we'd had enough of trudging down corridors, we emerged into an open area that looked to have been set up as a sort of rest stop. At least, there was a stone table flanked by benches and a cistern that proved to be filled with clean water. There were a few brackets for torches on the walls, but no torches, so Dorian and I kept casting. We put together a meal from the supplies we'd brought with us and refilled our water flasks. 

"So far this is anticlimactically dull," Kaeso said between bites. "I was expecting resistance by now. Well, other than a few magical bugs we could have avoided." 

"If Dorian and I are right about their primary mages being fond of constructs, they'd likely not wanted to waste the effort until the object was close by," I said. 

"The two of you should keep in mind that constructs can be cursed hard to defeat," Dorian addressed Fadik and Kaeso. "They can't be killed because they're not actually alive. You essentially have to dismember or explode them to get them to stop." 

"There's not a magical way to just turn them off?" Fadik asked. 

"If you're the mage that made them, yes. Otherwise it would be pure guesswork, which is fine as an academic exercise, but not terribly useful when the construct in question is bearing down on you, intent on your dismemberment." 

"The good thing is the spells that animate them usually have a limited radius," I added. "If you're able to take them apart from a distance, they can be easy to deal with. Of course, usually they don't animate until you're damn near on top of them." 

"I have to admit I've never fought one," Kaeso said with a frown. "Not many mages seem to want to invest the time and effort into constructs." 

"It's not the sexiest specialization you can pick," I said. "Making them correctly is apparently difficult _and_ time-consuming." 

"They'll probably throw giant spiders at us first," Dorian said cheerfully. 

"Just for that I'm going to hang back and let you lot handle them," I pronounced. 

Fadik stood up and gave her greatsword a few lazy swings. It trilled softly, making coloured trails of light as it moved. "Since we have a few minutes," she said, and went into a complicated routine, swinging the great blade about as though it was weightless. The almost-music and patterns of colour tracing through the air as the blade danced were rather mesmerizing. 

"That's lovely," Dorian murmured. "Reminds me of that sword Blackwall —I mean Rainier— was using for a time." 

"That one didn't provide its own musical accompaniment," I said. 

"More's the pity. A few more of those and we could stage a musical sword revue. It would likely take Ferelden by storm." 

"You'd have to add dogs to get a bona fide smash there." 

He glared at me. "Kai Trevelyan, that was dreadful. You should be ashamed." 

" _What_ was dreadful?" 

"Oh, please. You expect me to believe _dogs_ and _bona_ fide was inadvertent?" 

I gave him what I hoped was an inscrutable smile. Truth was, it _had_ been inadvertent, but I wasn't about to let him know that now. 

We finished eating, took an extra half hour to simply do nothing but relax and discuss what little strategy we could devise then set out again. There were two passages (really, you couldn't call them corridors anymore) leading out of the rest area. Confusingly, both were marked with sigils that glowed faintly when we hit them with spirit magic. 

"Does that mean they're equally good or equally bad?" Dorian wondered aloud. 

"Could we have missed the correct one?" Fadik said. 

"Anything's possible. Do we try one of these?" I said. 

"I'd use caution," Dorian advised. 

"Thank you so much for that timely advice, Magister," Kaeso drawled. "I for one would never have thought of that." 

"Care to take point, Kaeso?" I asked. 

"Oh please, like you didn't think he was stating the obvious." 

"It's something you need to do at times when you're working with other people." 

"Why? Is there some law I was unaware of that states you must have one mentally challenged squad member who needs everything spelled out for them at all times?" 

"More often there's always one squad member who's too fond of the sound of their own voice," Fadik growled. 

"Was that a veiled insult? Should I be fuming at my inability to form a sufficiently pithy comeback?" 

"How about _Pith off, Kaeso,_ " I suggested. "Anyone got a preference for the left or right passage?" 

No one did, so we flipped a coin and went down the left one. Surprisingly, Kaeso took point, though we continued to cast light ahead of him. For a time the passage travelled fairly straight and downward at an easy angle. The air was getting damp and increasingly chilly, but otherwise everything continued to be unremarkable. 

I was spending most of my time looking up into the darker recesses of the ceiling for things of the arachnid persuasion when, with the crunch of a cascade of displaced gravel, Kaeso came to an abrupt halt. 

" _Venhedis!_ " He swore as he threw himself back, nearly making Dorian lose his footing as he crashed past him. " _Stop._ Don't any of you move forward another step." 

"What seems to be the trouble?" Dorian asked. 

"Firstly, if you'd be so kind as to cast a light down and forward, you'll see the path gives out just ahead, and it's very crumbly starting right where I stepped. Now cast some more powerful light ahead of us and over as wide an area as you can, and tell me what you see." He backed up a little more, standing with his arms folded over his chest. 

We moved as close to the edge as was safe and did as he said. The passage floor dropped sharply and got 'crumbly' at the same time as the passage itself opened into a huge cavern; so big we couldn't see how far it went. And starting just a few feet below where we stood, it was full of water. 

"Well, shit," Fadik said. 

I fired a ball of light straight ahead. When it faded from view, there was still no sign of a far wall. "That is…fucking big." 

"An underground lake?" Fadik said. 

"For all we know, it's an underground sea," Dorian said. "Anyone for a swim?" 

There were no takers. 

"Well, unless there is a large, stable and magically propelled boat nearby, I suggest we bid farewell to this avenue." 

"I'd suggest we do that even if there was a boat," I said. "If we were foolish enough to sail out there, there would no doubt be something large, nasty and voracious waiting for us." 

"Or just large and nasty," Kaeso amended. "Something that finds it vastly entertaining to watch people drown." 

"Something that might be attracted by the sound of people discussing it at the edge of its domain?" Fadik said, pointing. Dorian threw light and we all saw—ripples in the water heading in our direction. 

We turned, I cast a _don't notice me_ on all of us and we got the fuck out of there.


	75. Of Course There Are Spiders

Back in the rest area, we made a slow circuit of the entire chamber, Dorian and I casting spirit magic at random spots on the walls. It was Fadik who noticed the sigil, no doubt because she's a head taller than any of us—it was up at the top of the back wall, nearly obscured by soot from countless cooking fires. 

I hit it with magic and along with the expected glow, an illusion spell dropped away, revealing another ramp heading down in the opposite direction from that vast underground sea. 

As we walked, Kaeso consulted his map and stuffed it back into a pocket with a curl of his lip. "This thing is worse than useless. No wonder everyone they've sent after this thing hasn't returned. I've a good mind to keep it once we get it." 

"I'm sure the Sacer Saeculum wouldn't mind in the least," Dorian said. "Just explain to them you have a credenza in desperate need of something to balance the silverite chafing dish or the mood of the entire parlour will be ruined." 

"Hold a moment," I said. I'd been walking slightly ahead of the others and, while it may have been a slight case of paranoia…I cast a wall of fire and sent it hurtling down the corridor. There was a cacophony of high-pitched shrieks and popping noises. The walls just ahead of us had been literally crawling with spiders. 

Fadik swore, Kaeso just stood there with a disapproving look on his face, and Dorian cast a second wave of fire to take care of any escapees from mine. 

"We'll need to give things a moment to cool," I said. That was the first big spell I'd cast since I'd nearly killed myself. I'd felt…not pain, exactly, but a sort of itchy discomfort like you get when a bad wound is healing. I also felt a little tired, but trusted that would go away. Regardless, it felt good to cast at full power again. 

"What is it with these people and bugs?" Kaeso complained. 

"They freak a lot of people out," Fadik said, driving the tip of her sword into the floor. Another tinny shriek, and she raised it to show us a fat spider about the size of my thumb impaled on it. 

"They look like exact miniatures of your average giant cave spider," Dorian said with a moue of distaste. 

"Oh fuck me, you would have to say that," I said. 

"Something more wrong than we think?" he asked. 

"Just…" I couldn't help a small shudder. "What if they are? What if something back there just hatched?" 

"Then you two let loose with as much fire as this place can stand and we thank whatever old god each of us is most partial to that spiders, as a rule, do not possess a surfeit of maternal instinct," Kaeso said. 

"And if we run across the first proud spider parents in Thedas?" Fadik asked. 

"Then we get to see how well that sword of yours works." He grinned. 

"Just once I'd like to go through an entire mission without it involving bugs," I grumbled. 

We walked cautiously down the corridor, the floor crackling beneath our feet as we trod on fried spiderling corpses. Twice more Dorian and I had to send burns ahead of us; that's how many of the ghastly things had hatched. 

Weak light was visible ahead; we cast a _don't notice me_ as a precaution. Our crispy corridor let out into another chamber, this one much larger than the rest area. It was festooned with webs, a handful of burst egg sacs and more bloody spiderlings crawling all over everything. 

"We're expected to go through this, aren't we," I said flatly. 

"Haven't seen any sigils indicating otherwise," Fadik said. 

"Has anyone considered the idea that this whole snipe hunt we're on might be a lie? Maybe there is no right path because there's no prize at the end and someone just engineered this whole elaborate prank for shits and giggles." 

"Then we'd still need to get out of here and tell the Sacer Saeculum the truth," Kaeso said. 

" _You'd_ have to, you mean. The rest of us just need to get out and go for a lovely holiday involving sun, sand, and oversized drinks garnished with fruit wedges," Dorian said. "Ready to cook some spiders, amatus?" 

I made a grunt that approximated _yes_. "Let's get this bloody over with. Keep a watch for the big ones," I said to Kaeso and Fadik. 

We cast barriers on ourselves and as Dorian launched the first fire spell, I fired a large, area-encompassing lightning spell. The shock stopped most of the nasty little things in their tracks and actually exploded a handful of them before Dorian's fire got them. We walked slowly into the chamber, trading off fire and lightning as we progressed. Keeping the barriers up protected us from the spells' effects and the danger of spiderlings dropping on us from above. 

Once we'd done about half the chamber (and more than half of the bugs), we retreated back to the entrance to cool off and rest for a moment. Dorian downed a small bottle of lyrium to help restore his magical reserves more quickly. I haven't needed lyrium since the day the Anchor embedded itself in my hand; it seems to have been a permanent change, and is one of the few things it did that I like. 

We heard a rustling clatter from the far end of the chamber that was all too familiar. I looked at Kaeso and Fadik. "Here come the reinforcements in case you resented us having all the fun. We'll back you up from here as long as there aren't so many that it requires all of us." 

"Sounds good to me," Fadik said with a hard smile. "I've been itching to try this blade out, and since Spindly's off limits…" 

Kaeso ignored her, sniffing. "Bugs. Not what I trained for, but so be it. Anything's better than hanging around this dreary cavern smelling cooked spider all night." 

Did I mention that burnt spider stinks? 

We cast barriers on them and watched them wade into the shallow sea of burnt spiderlings. They'd made it perhaps five paces when the adults hove into sight. There were three of them, and they weren't the sleeker poisonous types, but the bulbous-bodied ones that splatted like noisome water bombs if you weren't careful how you hit them. We cast freezing at the things both to slow them down and lower the temperature in the chamber. 

Fadik made short work of the one in front of her, greatsword warbling a martial tune as it strobed brightly metallic primary colours and cut through the beast like it was constructed of candy floss. She moved on to the second. 

Kaeso had taken a very different route with his spider. I know it was in part necessitated by his weapons, but still— as the creature tried to rear up and attack him, Kaeso darted in and out of its reach, cutting, cutting, cutting. The thing didn't seem to realize it was being almost surgically cut to pieces. He'd removed part or all of half its legs, a few of its eyes and random chunks of its thorax without getting so much as a scratch. 

I cast another barrier on him as he somehow slipped between its front legs and removed one of its big front mandibles. 

It noticed that, giving a piercing shriek as its face spewed ichor, but Kaeso was already gone, hacking off another leg with a series of quick cuts. It spun awkwardly, screaming and searching, fluid dripping from its many wounds. 

Kaeso dived in from the other side, sliced off the sixth leg and danced back as the thing lurched and fell thrashing. He had a faint smile on his face as he circled the creature until he saw it notice him. It tried to stand, couldn't, reached for him with the few appendages it had left. 

He danced forward, daggers flashing, puncturing two of its remaining eyes. 

It screamed, a piercing, increasingly wheezy noise, and thrashed as Kaeso circled it lazily. 

He slid into a gap where there were no longer legs, and with a series of vicious cuts that took a lot more muscle than he'd let on he possessed, separated its abdomen from its thorax, leaping nimbly back before the spurt of ichor could get all over him. 

The thing screamed again, scrabbling weakly at the floor. Kaeso watched with that same faint smile as it slowly died, shuddering and twitching long after it should have stopped. 

"Damn," Dorian murmured, "I never thought I could possibly feel sorry for one of those things." 

"I can't quite go that far, but…yeah," I said. "I guess he wasn't kidding." 

"About?" 

"Oh, you know…the whole sadistic killer thing." 

"Does that bother you?" 

"It should but…it's hard for me to get worked up about a spider, even though I know that's not his primary choice of victim." 

Further introspection about why it didn't bother me was cut short as the other two came trooping back to us. Fadik was saying, " _Vashedan_ , Spindly, you really do know how to use those things." She, too, did not look in the least bothered by his methods. 

"I told you," he replied. "Not the most satisfying creature to have my way with, but that was my first giant spider. Would it be too much to expect you to stop calling me that now?" 

"But it fits you so well. Hey, while we clean our blades, would you two mind finishing off the last of the little ones?" Fadik gestured at the chamber. 

So we crunched across the floor, repeated our _lightning and fire_ routine on the last batch of spiderlings and destroyed one last egg sac that had yet to hatch. 

"You realize we could be upsetting some delicate natural balance down here, don't you?" Dorian said as he cast a touch of kinetic energy to push enough spider corpses off to the side to clear a path. 

"I'm willing to take that chance," I said drily. "Next time maybe they won't set up their nursery in the middle of a marked path." I pushed another pile off to the side. 

"You seem to be having no trouble casting." He didn't quite make it sound like a question, but it was. 

"The big spells felt odd. Like your skin feels when you've recently finished healing from a bad burn, you know? And I have to admit I'm rather tired." 

"You're not the only one, amatus. We _have_ been slogging down here for quite some time now. Venhedis, I wager I'll never get this smell out of my clothes." 

"What about your hair?" 

He gave me a withering look. "You _would_ remind me of that. Now I shan't be able to rest properly until I can wash." 

"I'll still love you even if you smell like cooked spiderling." 

"Yes, but will you respect me?" 

=#= 

The chamber had only one exit. We found and disposed of a few stragglers from the hatching, but the majority of them had been heading the direction we'd come from, so it wasn't a repeat of the slaughter we'd just perpetrated. 

We trudged in relative silence. I was feeling tired and achy, and the others looked a little rough around the edges too. I find underground travel gets oppressive after a while. The dwarves are welcome to their tunnels; I could be perfectly happy never venturing into them again. 

The path took a sudden upward incline and arced. To our surprise, it opened into another chamber inset with three banded wooden doors. 

"I suppose they're all locked," Fadik said sourly. 

"If Kaeso can't pick the locks, Dorian and I can blow them off their hinges, though that can be hard on the contents of the rooms," I said. 

"Kaeso can pick them," Kaeso said. "Pick a door. Never mind. I'll just start on the right. Any wards you can see?" 

We couldn't, so he made sure it was locked and set to work. The first room—whose stone walls looked like they had been hastily hacked out with pickaxes—was half filled with chunks of obsidian and a table filled with sculpting tools and magical apparatus. One corner also had sets of shackles bolted to the wall. The floor there was suspiciously stained. 

"Spell anything out to you?" I said quietly to Dorian. 

"You mean leftover apparatus for manufacturing constructs using blood magic to speed things along? Certainly not. Just a humble sculptor with a sideline in enchantment, no doubt." 

The second room was disappointing. It contained straw-filled mattresses, but they'd been left on the floor and had gone mouldy. The air was stale and smelled rank. 

The third room was better. Someone had stacked a few basic supplies at the back, including some folded blankets that smelled elderly, but not rotten. We took them into the main chamber and shook them out in case something decided to set up housekeeping in them. There was even a small stack of prepared torches in a wooden box. We lit a few and placed them in wall sconces so Dorian and I could get a break from casting light. 

After another meal cobbled together from the preserved things we'd brought from the upper storerooms, Kaeso produced a bottle of hard liquor he'd stashed and we shared it around. He must have been tired too, because he was talking like a normal person without any of his usual snark and mental games. Between the liquor and the mellow semi-darkness of flickering torchlight, I was having trouble just keeping my eyes open. Finally, Fadik yawned hugely and suggested we all consider getting some sleep. 

We managed to cobble together beds of a sort out of the stack of blankets. Without the mattresses it wouldn't be terribly comfortable, but we'd all had to put up with that sort of thing before. Fadik offered to take first watch, pointing out accurately that due to the lack of lighting, Dorian and I had been spellcasting constantly for maker-knew-how-many hours on top of the combat magic. "You're not going to do us any good if you can't see straight from exhaustion," she pronounced. I really couldn't argue that. 

We removed our boots and armoured clothing but kept everything else on and tried to get comfortable. Kaeso started to follow suit, but Fadik said, "Not yet, Spindly. You need to help me find water if there's any nearby." 

He frowned. "Why do _I_ need to come with you?" 

"Because we might find other supplies or we might find something nasty. Never go wandering in strange places without backup. Didn't anyone ever teach you that?" 

"I normally work alone. I _like_ working alone." He bit back a yawn that made his pronouncement a little less impressive than he would have liked. 

"Right now you're not, so you're backup. Look at it this way — we might run across more spiders to kill." 

He brightened at the thought. "That was more entertaining than I thought it would be. All right, I'll go. But what about them? They'll be asleep." 

"We'll ward the entrance so if anything but the two of you crosses, we’ll be alerted," Dorian said. 

"Then let's get this over with. I need sleep too, you know." 

We watched them exit and set up our wards. 

"That was nice of Fadik," I said. 

"It was indeed. Come here, you." He pulled me to him and we simply embraced. I breathed in and, though it was overlaid with sweat and burnt spider, he still smelled good. I wondered idly how he managed that. 

"Shouldn't you take your arm off?" he asked. 

"I'm afraid if I do something ghastly will happen. The last thing I want to do is lose it down here." 

"I understand. Fasta vass, I'd forgotten just how hard floors are. I'm sorry, amatus, this is lovely but I feel like _my_ arm is going to get torn out of its socket if we don't change position." 

I chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm having similar problems. We'd best get some sleep anyway." So we kissed each other good night and tried to get as comfortable as one can get on a stone floor. I was tired enough, I think was out within five minutes.


	76. The First Chamber

"Does anyone have any idea how long we've been down in this forsaken hole?" 

That was Kaeso. He'd been peevish and snappy ever since we got up. He was getting on my nerves, but I knew I wasn't behaving much better. They hadn't found water, which meant we couldn't spare any so I could have coffee. 

"Feels like about a year," I said. 

"I really don't know how the dwarves stand it," Dorian said. "It's the relentless _sameness_ of it all, like you're stuck in an eternal, timeless loop." I think he was mainly cross because he was rumpled from sleeping on the floor in his clothes. Or it could have been because of me and Kaeso. 

"I assume they own a lot of clocks," Kaeso said. "Or maybe their precious stone tells them what time it is." 

"Yeah, well it's all giving me a headache," I said. 

Dorian made an amused noise. "That's not the stone, Kai. It's your dependence on coffee. I've seen you have the same problem on beautiful spring days if you've not had any when you get up." 

I said, "Whatever," and left it at that. Dorian was right; I just didn't want to admit it. 

"The way you're all chattering, I take it you've decided those threats Spindly's paper outlined are just stories to scare people." 

Okay, so Fadik was cross too. 

We stumped along in silence after that, Dorian and I taking turns casting light. The aches and pains from sleeping on the floor were working themselves out as I moved, but the headache had settled in right between and behind my eyes. All I could hope was it would abate over time; healing spells did fuck-all to vanquish it. 

Here and there we had to stop to cast spirit at a sigil, but otherwise the first few hours — as closely as we could figure — were just dark, empty corridors opening into chambers here and there. We found one more cistern of fresh water (I got overruled when I suggested a coffee stop), a couple of sad skeletons, a chamber with a clutch of those tentacled and many-eyed statues like the ones Kaeso had found far above us (they were set carefully around the perimeter of a stone altar like an adoring audience waiting for their favourite performer), and a full set of Templar armour propped in the corner of a small chamber with a fossilized wedge of cheese balanced on top of the helmet. 

We came across a chamber where the roof had partially fallen in; looking up, we could see passages branching away from the collapsed section. "All things considered, it's a wonder anyone ever escapes these tunnels," Dorian said. "For all we know there are entire legions down here that got lost whilst trying to invade, all slowly withering away as they searched fruitlessly for an exit." 

"Perhaps their ancestors dwell here still, blind and colourless, living on eyeless fish from the underground sea," I said. 

"Or they killed and ate each other until the last one died mad and alone," Kaeso offered. 

"It's no worse than the Deep Roads, and — your colourful speculations aside — no darkspawn," Fadik said. 

"You've been to them, have you?" Kaeso said. 

"Mm hm." Fadik didn't elaborate. I knew she'd been in the military for some years before she'd left the Qun, and the number of places you found teams of Qunari nosing around…I could easily see it. 

We skirted around the rubble and continued on with more care. The corridor widened slowly, curving to the right, then more sharply left. We all stopped short at the end — a huge, arched doorway letting out on a hallway that would have looked at home among the palaces of the surface. 

The walls were light grey, finished and glossy with a web of gold inlay running through them, the floor smooth, polished black stone. Both sides were flanked with statues on low pedestals. The pedestals were obsidian with burnished gold accents. The statues - gold with black accents - were of people I didn't recognize. 

"Are these Tevinter heroes?" I asked. 

Dorian and Kaeso studied them. 

"Heroes and gods, I'd say. I believe that one is supposed to be old Hessarian himself." Dorian pointed at a bearded man with a gnarled staff. 

"The one with the sword's got to be Tindarion," Kaeso said. 

"The ethereal-looking woman is probably Eleni Zinovia," Dorian continued. 

Fadik gave me a narrow look. "You had to ask. You should have known it'd become a competition." 

"I'm something of an academic myself," I said with a shrug. "The question came naturally. There are quite a few statues, aren't there." 

It _had_ become a competition—they were now keeping score. 

"It's not like the south where if it's not Andraste, it's probably Maferath," Fadik said wryly. "Tevinter has a rich and colourful history."

"Sorry." 

An argument erupted over whether one statue was Almadrius or Thalsian, with both of them pointing out miniscule details proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were right. They were having the time of their lives, but I felt compelled to intervene. 

"I know I'm not showing proper appreciation for history, but perhaps we should get moving before we have to spend another night?" 

They both looked at me blankly for a moment as they switched gears. 

"Of course," Dorian said. "Notice how clean everything is? We may not want to stay long enough to discover the identity of the janitor." 

Kaeso dug out his piece of paper and studied it again. "I think we're close. Look at this. Does this look like it could be where we're standing?" 

We looked. "They let the one with no artistic talent draw the map," I said. "That could be this hall. It could also be twenty other things." 

"Perhaps that _was_ the one with the artistic talent out of them all," Dorian suggested. 

"Or a stray eight-year-old they pulled off the street." 

"If it is, the object is just a chamber or two away," Kaeso said. 

"Good. Subterranean existence is vastly overrated," Dorian said. 

"You just don't like that your hair is mussed," Kaeso said, then smirked. "Though I'd say Kai approves of it." 

"I can't imagine what led you to that conclusion," I said blandly. 

"I could tell you, but I'd rather let you wonder." 

"Have either one of you cast light in the last few minutes?" Fadik asked. 

Dorian and I gave her identical _uh…no_ looks. 

"Then either I've developed night vision or it's light in here and getting lighter." 

She was right. 

"We must have triggered something," I ventured. 

"Maybe this hall lights on a day/night cycle," Kaeso theorized. 

"You want to bet our lives on that? We might want to get out of here before the welcoming committee wakes up," I said. 

"A sound idea, amatus." Dorian readied his staff; the rest of us followed suit with our own weapons. 

We continued down the hall. I don't know about the others, but I was acutely aware of both the statues flanking us and the fact that whatever mages had been involved in setting up the defenses had been fond of constructs. 

"If any of you see even one of those things twitch, say something _immediately_ ," Dorian said, echoing my thoughts. 

The light in the hall had brightened to the level of a pleasant summer's day. It didn't make me feel any better. I'd seen plenty of people killed on pleasant summer days. We picked up our pace; any faster and we'd be jogging. 

The golden statues tracked us with obsidian eyes… 

Halfway, two-thirds of the way… 

We could see the exit now — an archway matching the one at the entrance, but with an intact set of doors. I shifted to the magical spectrum and could just see the delicate tracework of wards on them. "Dorian," I said, "Have a look at the doors." 

Three quarters of the way and the statues remained in place. We reached the doors. 

"I take it they're warded," Kaeso said. 

"Beautifully," Dorian answered. 

"I'm assuming if we try to open them without disabling the wards correctly, these effigies of historical significance will attempt to dispose of us," I said. 

"Then you might want to do it correctly," Fadik advised. 

We did not favour her with a response, choosing to concentrate on the wards. They were pretty things, radiating from the locks in a delicate, interlocking spiral pattern with those smooth, stylized angles I liked so much in Madauros's architecture. "Do you think the same mage designed the architecture?" I mused. 

"I haven't heard of many architect-mages, but I suppose it's possible.” Dorian stroked the patch of hair under his lower lip. “Now, where to start…" 

=#= 

We'd been at it quite a while, but were making good progress on the wards. They responded to cold magic, of all things, which was really quite clever. By casting small amounts we were able to trace the pattern we'd need to apply to open the ward, but it was a tricky business. Apply too much at once and you'd activate them, and once activated they'd want the pattern. Additionally, if you hit the doors with a heavy freezing spell you'd shatter the matrix and unleash some horrible trap. (Really. We could see the set-up for it. I don't know what it was poised to do, but it looked nasty.) 

Behind us, Fadik and Kaeso were sitting on the floor, having grown weary of standing about waiting. 

"I thought magic was supposed to be dynamic and fast-acting," Fadik said. 

"Not high magic," Kaeso said witheringly. "High magic is like this. Hours or days or bloody weeks of a mage or mages parked in front of some spellwork, barely moving. Oh, unless they go running to look in tomes or bring in other mages to _confer_. When they finally get round to _doing_ something it can be quite spectacular, but somehow the tales never include this part." 

"Did you work for a mage?" she asked. 

"No. My loving family were all mages." Kaeso stood and began poking about the perimeter of the hallway. 

I returned my attention to the doors. The pattern we were uncovering was fairly simple, but looked like it was going to be unforgiving when it came to any margin for error. It was a matter of precise memorization as we uncovered each step, something all mages are rigorously trained in. 

Somewhere off to our right, Kaeso made a pleased noise as Dorian said, "Look at this, amatus. Am I mad or does it require a spot of fire magic here?" 

Kaeso made a grunt of effort that we tried to ignore. The spot of fire magic turned out to be a red herring; just a slight variance in vibration to make it _look_ like it required fire. You really had to respect the mage who constructed it. 

"I knew it!" Kaeso said in triumph. We all looked at him as he continued, "There's always a service entrance." 

He'd pulled aside a statue Dorian told me was of Captiosos, god of deception and fallacy, to reveal a lever that he now pulled despite all of us shouting at him not to do it. "What? There's a door right here. I can see its outline," he protested. 

There was a grinding noise behind the wall, but no door opened. Instead, Dorian and I felt a great wash of magic pour into the hallway. 

And the statues awoke. 

=#= 

_"Kaeso you bloody great git, what's wrong with you?"_ I shouted. 

While he said some bullshit about why it wasn't a stupid idea, I turned my attention to more important things. The statues weren't fast, but the number of them moving toward us would make that moot if we didn't act quickly. The _way_ they moved was weird and fascinating. I can only liken it to the flick-books that I've seen people with far greater artistic talent than I create. They draw a thing, changing it in tiny increments on a succession of pages. When you flip through the finished product quickly, it looks like the thing is moving in a smooth yet jagged manner. It was unsettling, like they were blinking in and out of existence several times a second. Watching them too long would probably be headache-inducing. 

Fadik had already jumped to her feet and bisected the statue closest to her. Dorian warded us and was readying another spell. 

"Don't worry about that; I've got your back. You just concentrate on opening those doors," I said. 

"And if those statues aren't the only thing he woke up?" 

"I vote we walk away and let _him_ deal with them," I snapped. I cast a heavy force spell at the front line of statues, knocking them back into the constructs behind them. 

Dorian gave me a brisk nod. "I'd best get to it, then. If anyone gets killed, please make sure it's Kaeso." 

I slammed a bolt into my right-hand crossbow and fired. The bolt _thunked_ into a statue's head and exploded, sending licks of fire and chunks of statue everywhere. Its body immediately fell to the ground, once again inanimate. "Go for their heads," I told Fadik, "If they have an animating script, it seems to be placed there." 

"And if the genius that made these decided to hide them in different places?" She turned her greatsword and pounded the head of the statue zeroing in on her with the pommel. The head cracked, so she hit it again. This time the statue's head shattered and it dropped to the ground. 

"Just keep hacking until it stops moving." I glanced around and bellowed, " _Kaeso!_ Where the fuck are you? Get your arse over here or I'll flatten you for the sheer joy of it." 

He trotted up to me, carrying the arm of a statue he must have managed to kill. "I'm right here, Kai. It was an _accident_. It looked like a door." 

I fired a bolt from my left hand crossbow that blew up another head, followed that up with a force spell bolstered by flame in case they were easily melted. "Right. Behind a statue of the god of deception. And you expect me to believe it was a bloody accident." 

"A miscalculation. I _swear,_ Kai." He lashed out with his makeshift club and neatly smashed a statue's head along with part of his club. "You see, I'm helping fight them. Doesn't that count for something?" 

At least the things weren't indestructible. " _Fadik_! I'm going to freeze that lot. If you hit them quickly enough you should be able to shatter most of them!" 

She said, "Gotcha, boss," as I cast, then laid about them with her greatsword. A half-dozen statues shattered into pieces; the sword glowed orange-red and trilled something triumphant. 

"How's it coming, Dorian?" I asked, risking a quick glance behind me. 

"Just as swiftly as it was before genius here pulled that lever. Are you sure you don't need help?" 

"Not yet. Let me know if _you_ do." 

 "Kai! Little help here!" Fadik called. 

I cast another heavy freezing spell at the next wave of statues as it seemed to have more effect than fire. Fadik smashed her sword through them and they shattered. 

Kaeso suddenly dashed past me and dove on a statue that had somehow gotten behind us and was heading for Dorian. It hit the ground. Kaeso bounced off it and delivered a kick to its head that only dented it. The thing managed to grab his leg, digging its fingers in fiercely. I was tempted to let him suffer for a minute, but that would have jeopardized us, so I reloaded the crossbow and blew up its head. (For those who wonder how I got to be such a crack shot, I practiced a lot…and I directed the bolt with a touch of well-placed kinetic energy so it would hit its target. In other words, I cheated a little.) 

He grinned madly at me. "Thank you, Kai. I knew you cared." 

"Just go kill some statues, Kaeso, or I'll fire the next bolt in your arse." 

"Nearly got it, amatus. Perhaps five more minutes," Dorian said. 

I spun, conjured a sword and decapitated a statue. Unfortunately, the head just bounced along the floor and the body kept coming. I swore as the thing swiped at me and managed to clip my nose. I ducked around it, conjured the sword again and smashed the head. Behind me, the body thudded to the ground. 

Fadik's sword was singing steadily and enjoying its first outing in maker knows how long if one could judge by the cheeriness of its tunes. At least it was easy to keep track of her location by following the washes of colour in the air. I alternated between magical and crossbow attacks, keeping everything away from Dorian as he concentrated on the door puzzle. I took the occasional hit when too many of them got too close, but my coat absorbed the blows easily. Occasionally I'd see Kaeso dashing about like a mad thing, usually smashing statue heads with parts from other statues. 

Then everything went silent. I'd readied myself for another wave before I realized there was none coming. The shattered statues lay strewn all around the hall, with the largest heaps clumped  in a loose circle around us. The only movement was from Fadik and Kaeso as they picked their way through the rubble. 

Behind me, Dorian said, "Got it!" 

I turned in time to watch him activate the pattern in perfect succession. When it finished, it flashed a pretty blue-white and melted into the doors. 

I joined him, the other two standing just behind us. "Care to do the honours?" Dorian asked. 

"You solved this. You deserve to open them," I said. 

"Let's hope there are no living troops lined up on the other side or any other distasteful surprises." He turned the ornate metal handles and we stepped back. 

The doors creaked open, revealing a large, square, dimly-lit chamber. We waited, but it looked like Kaeso hadn't managed to wake anything else. 

Dorian said, "Kai, did you know your nose is bleeding?" 

I sniffed, tasted blood running down the back of my throat. "I do now. Damn. Statue clipped me." I raised my hand to wipe it away. 

"Let me," Dorian said, pulling a handkerchief out of his coat pocket. "I know you — you'll just wipe it all over your sleeve." 

"Oh, isn't this just precious," Kaeso sneered. 

"You don't watch it, we'll get positively treacly just to annoy you, Spindly," I growled. 

"Kai, you are not to call me that." 

"After that stunt I'll call you whatever I want. Ow." Dorian had bumped my nose, no doubt because I was talking while he was cleaning blood off me. 

"I did no stunt. It was an honest mistake. How often do I have to tell you that?" 

"Oh yes, pulling a lever set into a wall behind an effigy to the god of deception was a mere accident," Dorian said. 

"You too, Dorian?" Kaeso pouted. 

"That's right, Spindly." 

"You're all being beastly. I've a good mind to get truly offended." 

"Then perhaps we'll leave you to your own devices for the rest of this little adventure." Dorian gave him a wolfish smile. 

"Lights are amping up in the next chamber," Fadik pointed out. "Want to go check it, Spindly? Since you seem eager for some excitement and all." 

"You think I won't? I'm fine with that. You can all just hang back and say disparaging things about me." He pushed past us and strode into the chamber. 

"You need a healing spell, amatus?" Dorian asked. 

"Nah, I'm fine," I assured him. "We should back him up, I suppose." 

"We couldn't wait to see if something'll at least knock him on his ass?" Fadik asked. 

"We should definitely allow that if it happens," I said. "Did you know you're bleeding too?" 

"I am? Where?" 

I pointed at several small spots up her arms and one on her face. 

"Oh. Statue shards," she said with a shrug. 

"Sounds like something a person says when they're trying not to swear," Dorian said. 

"There are stairs leading down here," Kaeso called. "All the way around, like an outdoor theatre. And at the bottom is a square pool of unnatural colour. Do you still care so little about me that you won't even look at this?" 

"Even though you have richly earned a taste of being ignored, we'll look," I answered and said to the others, "Shall we?" 

"Certainly," Dorian said, adding with a dark look at me, "This time don't drink it." 

"They're gone now," I reminded him. 

"One word: geas." 

Fadik said, "Geese?" 

Kaeso wrinkled his nose at us. "Why are you talking about geese?" 

"You never know when you might run into one," Dorian said. "Tricky creatures, geese. Vicious too." 

He shook his head. "Mages. See — the pool is right there. There are no geese present." 

"None that you can see, anyway," I said. "I don't think I've seen that particular shade of blue before." 

"I believe that's called Montsimmard Blue," Dorian said. "It was apparently the happy result of an alchemical accident." 

"You're making that up," Fadik scoffed. 

"So help me, it's true," Dorian protested. "They made quite a fuss over it, since that particular shade of blue has never been seen in nature." 

"Deservedly so," Kaeso said. "It's very loud." 

"So do we have a closer look or skirt widely around it?" I said. "Either way one could make a case for it containing traps." 

"The chamber is configured to lead you straight to it," Fadik said. 

"It would help if they'd put up a few commemorative plaques," Dorian said. 

"And take away the mystery and threat of lurking death? Perish the thought," I said with a grin. 

"We could throw something into the pool and see what happens. There are plenty of bits of statuary back there," Kaeso said. 

"I think we've had enough of you seeing what will happen, Spindly," Fadik said. 

"Have I mentioned lately in a serious enough tone that I am growing weary of that childish nickname?"  Kaeso snapped. 

"Then don't go about pulling levers because you're bored," I said. "And stop telling us it was an accident. You couldn't keep the smirk off your face." 

"You never used to be this cruel and humourless, Kai." 

"Funny what near death, a tragic lack of coffee, and having to needlessly fight constructs can do to a man's sense of humour," I said drily. 

"We should do _something_ ," Fadik said. "We're just wasting time looking down at that thing." 

"I'm assuming we need to go through the chamber. We don't have to dive into the pool to do so." 

"You'd better hope those aren't famous last words," she said direly. 

"If the possibly poisonous pool is the only egress from this dread chamber, are we all agreed that Kaeso should blaze that watery trail?" Dorian said. 

"You don't need to bother answering that. At this point you're all as predictable as spilled body fluids after sex," Kaeso groused. 

"Such a way with words," Fadik said. 

"I prettied them up just for you, milady," Kaeso smarmed back. 

We ended up going about halfway down the stairs so we could keep an eye on the pool while walking around to the other side. Unbelievably, nothing happened. 

"Maybe whatever was supposed to attack broke or died," Dorian theorized. 

"We couldn't possibly be that lucky," I predicted. "Something will happen when we reach the other end, or when we try to leave." 

"Nothing would've happened in the last chamber if Spindly hadn't pulled that blasted handle," Fadik pointed out. 

"If we'd gotten one thing wrong on that ward something would have happened that made the constructs look like a joke," I said. "That's probably what the bloody things were — something designed to distract the mage or mages working on the puzzle so they make a mistake." 

"How do you figure that?" Fadik asked. 

"It was too easy. They could have made those constructs infinitely more deadly. Instead they were just a nuisance." 

"That's rather diabolical," Dorian said with a faint smile. "Perhaps Kaeso was right to want two of us along." 

"Of course Kaeso was right," Kaeso said. 

"Then do encourage that aspect of Kaeso if you're going to refer to yourself in the third person," Dorian countered. 

We made it to the other side of the chamber unscathed.


	77. Interlude (12)

The summer days flowed past in Qarinus, each day what Dorian would call _glorious_ and Kai would deem _sweltering._ Bound spirits kept the interior of the rambling estate cool and pleasant. 

The old summer house and the oddly debris-free reflecting pool had no spirits to maintain them in their forgotten corner, but no longer were things timeless and unchanging save for occasional onslaughts of deadfall and unwanted furniture. 

In the time since Arrun Cervidus had made his ill-fated decision to stay on the Pavus grounds, things had changed a great deal. By the time it finished with him, the liquid was no longer exactly liquid. It had become an unattractive grey sludge shot through with threads of reddish-brown and occasional hints of other, prettier colours. It had cohesion now, and though it could not be said to think, it had a rudimentary awareness, a sense of itself as an entity. 

It flowed/crept away from Arrun’s pathetic remains to the darkest side of the reflecting pool, the place from which the old, old magic was eagerly seeping, and came to rest. 

_Becoming._


	78. The Final Chamber

"Wonderful. Another dreary, time-consuming puzzle." Kaeso folded his arms across his chest and glared at the door. 

"Maybe this one isn't magical. If I were designing a series of traps, I wouldn't make them all magical," I said. 

"But this is Tevinter, amatus. It's very likely they made all of them magical," Dorian said. 

"Do you _see_ anything magical? Because I don't." 

We stood in front of what we assumed was the chamber door. At least, it _looked_ door-like in that it was made of pale grey wood and we could see a seam around it, but it had no handle, no lock and no hinges. We'd already discussed the possibility that the pool had something to do with its operation, and Dorian and I had investigated everything for signs of magic, but there'd been none. We'd looked for switches, levers, secret panels, but again come up blank. I really didn't blame Kaeso for being annoyed. We all were. 

"We could still throw something in the pool," Kaeso suggested. 

"Yeah, how about you?" Fadik snapped. 

"How about you keep that gaping bovine maw of yours shut, druffalo breath?" Kaeso snapped back. 

"Have I been transported back to my schooling days?" Dorian asked the air. 

I sat on the steps, feeling tired and frustrated. "Why would they build what looks like an amphitheatre around that thing?" 

"Because it's entertaining to watch whatever comes out of it consume the human sacrifice?" That was Dorian, not Kaeso. He sat next to me with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. 

Kaeso started making another circuit of the perimeter. 

"Puzzles, magical constructs, secret sigils…what is it about Tevinter that makes you all want to needlessly complicate everything?" Fadik complained. She took the gaudy greatsword out of its makeshift sheath and started one of her practice routines. 

"We are an ancient and complex society. This is our way of making sure no one forgets that," Dorian said. 

I eyed the unnaturally blue pool sourly. "It _wants_ us to throw something in it." 

Dorian quirked a smile at me. "Are we anthropomorphizing now?" 

"You have a better idea?" 

Fadik's sword trailed a wash of colour as it trilled a complex combination of notes that barely avoided being musical. 

Dorian said, "Kai…" and pointed at the door. 

I said, "What?" 

"Keep watching," he replied quietly. 

I did as he asked. Fadik started the next set of moves. The sword harmonized atonally with itself and the door _shimmered_. 

"Fuck me, did I just see that?" I said. 

"You did, amatus. I believe Fadik has just earned her place in this little party." 

I grinned. "Want to bet? Kaeso found the sword, so guess who he's going to think should get the credit." 

The sword warbled and the door shimmered again. 

Dorian and I stood up. I said, "Fadik, you've given us the answer. Kaeso, come over here." 

Kaeso trotted up. "Have you had an epiphany? Are we throwing the Qunari into the pool?" 

"Quite the opposite. You should be thanking the Qunari," Dorian said. 

"I agree, but what for?" Fadik asked. 

"Start doing your exercises again, but this time everyone watch the door," Dorian said. 

She started, the sword sang and the door shimmered again. "Well, I'll be damned," she said. 

"Why should we be thanking her? _I_ found the sword," Kaeso said. 

"You wouldn't have taken it if Fadik hadn't needed it," I said. "What do you think, love, is it the harmonics or the sword in particular?" 

"A very good question," Dorian replied. "Shall we test it?" 

The next several minutes were spent with Fadik waving the sword in patterns of varying length and complexity while we watched the door. We discovered the patterns that seemed to make it shimmer and fade the most, then while Fadik tried different combinations we experimented with spells that might enhance the effect. It turned out simply enhancing the volume and lowering the pitch of the notes half a step did the trick. As Fadik ran through a complicated set of movements, the sword sang and the door shimmered out of existence. We watched it happen several times, timing exactly how long it remained open (six seconds). Once we all felt ready, Fadik went through the routine one more time with Dorian and I enhancing it and as soon as the door disappeared we all jumped through the opening. 

Kaeso expressed regret that we hadn't gotten to see what would happen if something was thrown in the pool, but the rest of us were unsympathetic. 

The new chamber was dark when we entered, but it appeared the lights were triggered when people entered just like the last two. I was just as glad — casting light isn't difficult, but one does have to refresh the spell regularly, and if there are distractions it can be problematical. 

The floor was that same polished black stone veined with gold that we'd seen in the first chamber. It was empty save for a dais in the centre of the room. In the centre of the dais was a square pillar, and atop the pillar was a structure. Keeping both magical and physical watch for anything that might be a trap or trigger, we ascended the dais and approached the pillar. 

The structure consisted of four dowels of what looked like silverite, each embedded in a corner. Attached to these were many gossamer-thin threads of some sort of metallic substance, which were cradling Kaeso's prize: a metallic orb about the size of a grapefruit that looked like, if not a twin, at least a close cousin of the orb that Fen'Harel had allowed the demigod Corypheus to take in hopes that he would bring about the destruction of the Veil and our world along with it. 

Kaeso circled the pillar, face a study in concentration. "Well, it's a simple enough mechanism. The moment you lift the ball out of its cradle you trigger something no doubt lethal." 

"We've seen one of these before," Dorian said, frowning. "It's not something you want to toy with. I can feel from here that it's old and powerful. I know the Saeculum wants it, but I'd seriously recommend you leave it where it is." 

"Why? What does this magic ball do?" Kaeso asked. 

"I’ve no idea. The other one destroyed the southern Divine's Conclave along with the very large fortress it was being held in, and had originally been designed to destroy the world as we know it. That went awry, but it did destroy a demigod." 

"A magic ball did all that?" Fadik said. "And a group of criminal blood mages want this one?" 

"For all we know, all this one does is aid in the distillation of a particularly good grade of brandy," Dorian said. "But do we really want to take that chance?" 

"I wouldn't," Fadik said. 

Kaeso was looking at the orb thoughtfully. 

I opened my mouth to agree with Dorian and Fadik and instead heard myself say, "I disagree. The Sacer Saeculum wants it, they should have it." 

All three of them turned identical looks of surprise on me. 

"You can't be serious," Dorian said. 

"But I am," my mouth replied. "Just because the first orb was to be used for destruction doesn't mean this one is designed to do the same. You said it yourself." 

I literally could not control the words coming out of my mouth. I couldn't even alter my facial expression to let them know something was going on. I was speaking with utter conviction, but _I_ had nothing to do with it. _Venhedis — Mythal's geas has come home to roost._ It was the only explanation, and though I couldn't indicate in any way, it was scaring the fuck out of me. 

"But you're talking about giving it to the _Sacer Saeculum_ , Kai. Did you miss some part of our description of just how terrifying those people are?" Dorian demanded. 

"I heard every bit of it. I still think we should help Kaeso get it for them." 

Kaeso tilted his head, as though looking at me from another angle might make more sense. "I must say, Kai, even I'm surprised. I expected you'd be right on board with these two. Why aren't you?" 

"Yes, _why_?" Fadik said. 

My shoulders shrugged. "I don't know. Call it a gut feeling. We need to take it. I firmly believe that." _No I don't._ My eyes raked them all with earnest sincerity. "Will you trust me? Please?" _Say no, damn it._

Dorian nodded slowly. "If you believe that strongly, of course we trust you." 

"Agreed," Fadik said. 

"You know _I'm_ fine with it," Kaeso added, though he was still studying me. 

"Thank you," I said, hoping perhaps Kaeso was seeing something the others couldn't. "Then shall we figure out how we're going to liberate this thing?" 

"Delightful. Another puzzle." Kaeso left off studying me to turn his attention back to the orb. 

Dorian came closer to me and said quietly, "Are you quite sure about this, amatus? It sounds like madness to me." 

"Don't worry, it sounds mad to me too, but I'm sure," my mouth answered. "If you look closely at it, it's not the same as Solas's orb. The patterns on it are different." 

"That doesn't do a great deal to convince me of its safety. For all we know he and his Elvhen friends had a contest one dull winter's night to see who could make the most devastating orb." 

"You're right, of course, but I still think we need to do this," I said with a slight, reassuring smile. 

He fiddled with his moustache, feeling to make sure the tips were still properly pointed, and sighed good-naturedly. "Well…all right. I wish I knew what has you so convinced." 

"I do too. But I really do feel it's the best course of action." _No I don't._ Internally I was seething, but I couldn't express so much as a hint of it. 

"Then let's have a look at this latest puzzle." 

=#= 

It was clear I wasn't going to be able to do anything to combat whatever Mythal (I assumed) was doing to ensure we got the orb, so I resolved to not worry about it for the moment and instead do my best to keep us from getting killed by whatever traps were there to prevent thieves like ourselves. 

We all studied it closely, but really, it was obvious. We just had to lift the orb out of its cradle without disturbing said cradle in any way whatsoever. 

"The problem is, the second you lift that thing off, even if you did it perfectly, the shift in weight is going to trigger whatever defenses the thing has," Fadik said. 

"We're assuming defenses," Kaeso said. 

"Oh, it has defenses, all right," I said. 

"Big, nasty ones if the look and feel of the spells is any indication," Dorian added. "These people aren't kidding around." 

"So we need something that is the same shape and weight as the ball, and it needs to replace this one at the exact moment we take it," Kaeso summarized. 

"Nicely put," Dorian agreed. "You could moonlight writing synopses for novels if this doesn't work out for you." 

"I have to say, this looks like another one for you mages," Fadik said. "If you want to brainstorm, I'll make sure Spindly doesn't touch anything." 

"There's nothing _to_ touch," Kaeso snapped. 

"You'd find something and it would probably cause a cave-in," Fadik retorted. 

We left them to it. It seemed to be their happiest method of communicating. 

"So how do we convince this thing that nothing untoward has happened when we divest it of its orb?" Dorian said, casting extra light over the orb and its cradle. 

"We're not going to find any joy in conventional combat spells," I thought out loud. "Considering how fine some of that wire is, flame would melt them and cold would snap them. Same with force spells." 

"I wouldn't care to try electricity either," Dorian said. 

We tried and discarded several theories over the next hour. Even touching the orb was out of the question. Levitation was no use because of the weight issue, and there was no way of knowing the exact weight, so applying equal force as it was removed was problematical. 

"What if…instead of worrying about the orb itself we deal with the cradle?" I said. 

"We can't cast anything that might damage the threads," Dorian said. "I can't resurrect them, and your conjured sword is equally useless." 

"I don't think your haste spell would do much either," I mused. "There's no way it'd make us fast enough for the cradle not to notice." 

"Same with— hang on! Give me a moment." Dorian's gaze turned inward as he chased whatever idea he'd gotten. 

I gave him his space, making another circuit around the pillar just for something to do. I spared a moment to wish there were chairs. I was feeling rather tired and would have liked to sit down for a bit. I settled for stretching instead; my shoulders cracked and I felt marginally better, though I could still have done with a coffee. 

Dorian motioned me over, eyes shining, with that look that he gets when he's come up with something particularly grand. It's a charming look I never tire of. 

"Kai, I think I've got it. Time magic!" 

I squinted at him. "Time magic? How so? And do we really want to fuck around with that?" 

"I think we do, but in a limited, tightly controlled manner. You were right — we need to concentrate on the cradle, not the orb." 

"So how do you figure time magic?" 

"Look— Can we sit? I'm willing to put up with the floor for a time." 

"I thought you'd never ask. I'm actually feeling rather worn out." 

"You must be if you're admitting it." We sat and he continued, "We know what the problem is — it's convincing the cradle that nothing's amiss." 

"So far I'm with you." 

"As you said, common haste or slowing spells won't work. But what _if_ —" He paused dramatically. "What if we could isolate the cradle in a time where the orb was present?" 

I saw what he was getting at and it was brilliant. "Can it be limited that precisely?" 

"In theory, yes. I worked on the concept extensively when I was researching for Alexius. Of course, it turned out that wasn't where _his_ interests lay, but I found the idea intriguing. To isolate one object in time without the effect extending past the parameters you set…" 

His enthusiasm was infectious. "I think we could do it. But how?" 

"I could handle the time spell itself while you concentrated on the containment. Then we get Kaeso to reach in and simply pick it up. The cradle will still be in the time when the orb was present. If we can get it to _stay_ in that time long enough for us to leave, we should avoid whatever punishment is set." 

"I would opt to make that gap before it wears off as long as possible. We don't know how far the retaliation will extend." 

"Agreed." 

We didn't have anything to write on, so we compensated with a little magic to draw temporary diagrams on the floor. What we were hoping to do wasn't a simple thing. We'd already experienced first-hand what could happen when time magic fucked up, and the potential disasters were legion. While we were discussing, Kaeso and Fadik marched up to us. 

"The exit's just over there. We thought we'd go investigate what comes next if you two are going to be a while," Kaeso said with thinly veiled impatience. 

"We're definitely going to be a while," I said. "In fact, we should probably eat soon. If you can find any— wait, _both_ of you are going? _Together_?" 

"We're equally bored," Fadik said. "I see this magical theory stuff is fascinating to you, but from our perspective? I've read more interesting Qunari textbooks, and the Qun does not believe in making learning fun." 

"If you happen to find any furniture, would you bring it back? Sitting on the floor for great lengths of time doesn't have the same appeal it did when I was five," Dorian said. 

"We'll see what we can find," Fadik said. 

"Try not to turn time inside out while we're gone," Kaeso added. 

They headed for the vaulted exit, bickering cheerfully. 

"How about that," I said with a shake of my head. 

"Apparently mind-numbing boredom is a great leveller," Dorian said. "Now how much of the pedestal do you think we can safely include?" 

"Ideally? None." 

I won't go into detail about our very lengthy discussion and planning session. I think Dorian is planning to write a treatise on it in any event, and as narrator I have an obligation to keep things moving at a reasonable pace. 

Suffice to say, while we were working, Fadik and Kaeso managed to thoroughly explore the surrounding areas. Though not to the luxurious levels of our dusty little recovery room many levels up, they did find a few supplies that increased our comfort. There was another working cistern a short way down the exit hall, and a washroom just past that. They didn't find cots, but did return with a crudely made stool each, a box half-filled with firewood with a flint and steel, some blankets, a small, basic medical kit and a large bottle of alcohol that was nearly full. 

We took breaks to eat and use the facilities, but otherwise kept at it until we were able to try a few practice runs with objects from our gear standing in for the orb and cradle. 

I found out quickly that spelled time is…well, _slippery_ is the best way I can put it. It really doesn't want to be contained. 

Dorian had challenges of his own, trying to get it focused on just one object in the first place. It wanted to expand to encompass more than one object, and if it wasn't expanding, the spell wanted to collapse completely. It was challenging and fascinating and frustrating as all get out. Finally we had to stop due to sheer fatigue.

You really don’t want to be manipulating time if you’re no longer able to concentrate. 

We joined Kaeso and Fadik — who had already concluded we'd be spending the night — in the corner of the room they'd set up as a makeshift campsite. We played a few games of cards, sharing the bottle around until we killed it, and, as Kaeso had decided to act like a normal person, had quite a pleasant time. We put together beds with the blankets and our own gear. We were still sleeping on hard floor, but it was marginally more comfortable than last time.


	79. Demon

Dorian was off attempting to perform some limited ablutions before retiring. I was casting a few basic hardening spells on Dorian’s armour when Kaeso approached, sitting next to me with an unreadable look on his face. 

"Kai, may I ask you something?" 

I gave him a look of mild shock that was only partly feigned. "You're _asking_ me if you can ask something? That's unusual enough that I'll bite. What do you want to know?" 

"Your left side. Not the arm, the scars. How did it happen?" 

I couldn't help feeling suspicious, but he seemed to be sincere rather than mocking or creepily aroused. "I thought Fadik told you." 

His mouth drew down in a slight pout. "She essentially told me she knew and I didn't. Said it was a fade demon was all." 

I smiled. "That's really all I told her. You honestly want to know?" 

"Kai, that is a ridiculous question. I wouldn't _ask_ if I didn't want to know." 

"Why do you?" 

"Because that is a spectacular set of scars, particularly for a mage. You know the unusual intrigues me, and _that_ , my friend, is unusual." 

I wondered if he was using 'my friend' as a true sentiment or just an idiom, but otherwise everything he said was true. I decided not telling him was a bit silly, since I'd made no real secret of it. "Well…I'll give you the short version because I'm tired." 

His face was a study in eager interest. I wasn't sure whether to be flattered or worried. 

"It was quite early on when we were in the Inquisition. It was a typical day for back then — we'd been sent out to close a rift in a wilderness area." 

"How early? Were you with Dorian? Were you the Herald or the Inquisitor?" 

"I was with Dorian and I'd recently gone from Herald to Inquisitor. Why?" 

He shrugged. "Just trying to fix the timeline in my mind. It means you'd been doing it long enough that you could be considered experienced. Therefore either you or something failed spectacularly." 

I barked a short laugh. "You're right, and it wasn't me." 

**###**

The rift was nothing special as rifts went — just a rip in the fabric of reality that opened a door to the Fade. For some reason benign spirits never seemed to come out of them, just demons. The mark (or Anchor) that had embedded itself in my left hand gave me the unique ability to close the rifts, so that was my primary duty. The nascent world leader stuff was secondary. 

The majority of the rifts tended to open in wilderness areas, which was probably a good thing, though it made for a lot of slogging through far too much outdoors for my tastes. 

That day's rift was in a rough area of rocky ground and scrub grass near a forested expanse. Our camp was perhaps an hour's walk away; the nearest town was half a day's ride. We'd split into two teams back at camp — Blackwall, Varric, Cole and Solas had gone to deal with a crew of Venatori that had set up some sort of outpost nearby. I'd gone to close the rift accompanied by Dorian (of course), The Iron Bull and Sera. 

I was clad in my usual light armour and armed with my staff — once they were through the rift, the demons never went down without a fight. 

The first wave was pouring out of the rift as we approached (they always seemed to come through in waves).  There were a couple of wraiths that were more annoying than dangerous, and the long-limbed, clawed teleporters known as terrors. None of that first batch was particularly challenging, though I had to dodge a rage demon that unexpectedly came out of the rift after them. Its claw actually glanced off my armour as I threw a freezing spell at it. I heard a tearing sound but didn't think anything of it, busy as I was trying to close the rift. 

A wraith got in a lucky hit that blew my concentration right before Dorian sent it to oblivion. I still managed to weaken the rift, but as usual, there was going to be one more wave of them before I could close the thing permanently. We took a moment to regroup and catch our breath. There was no strategizing because it was essentially the same dance every time. 

The rift opened again and we all got ready as we watched to see what would pour out. It seemed all the excitement had drawn a nastier crowd — there was a big bastard of a pride demon and fully three greater terrors, which were to normal terrors what enraged lions are to house cats. 

As Sera and Bull engaged the pride demon, Dorian and I fired freezing spells at the terrors. It wouldn't kill them, but it did slow them and stop them from teleporting for a few moments, giving us a chance to throw some more lethal spells at them. Two were hit point blank; I got mine with a heavy force spell that looked like it did some damage, following that up with a gout of flame that would hopefully get into the cracks the first two spells had opened up. 

Dorian was doing well with his terror when the pride demon let out a bellow of pain and rage and came charging right toward him, an arrow sticking out of its right eye. He had to dive out of the way as the pride demon barrelled into the terror, knocking it off-balance then damn near taking its head off with the swipe of a clawed hand. It roared again as Dorian reanimated the newly dead terror and sent it to attack its killer. 

I don't know what happened after that because suddenly I had my own hands full as the remaining terror teleported almost literally on top of me. It sent me stumbling backwards as it raked at me viciously with the claws at the ends of its huge, long-fingered hands. I was about to cast a force spell when those claws snagged my armour and, with a sickening ripping noise, the entire left side of my reinforced coat gave way, sagging limply away from my body. 

The terror hissed and raked its claws deep into the gap, cutting through the padded cloth vest I was wearing underneath like it was tissue paper. I felt them scrabbling and digging viciously into my left side, though it was all happening so quickly that any pain I might feel hadn't caught up yet. I fired a force spell that knocked it back and off me followed by another that slammed it into the ground. A quick freezing spell to slow it down, and I wheeled around, running for a better vantage point to finish it off. My left side felt wet, and I suspected once the adrenaline wore off I was going to discover some significant injuries. 

I made it perhaps ten paces before the damned thing materialized in front of and slightly above me. It drove into me, knocking me to the ground and knocking the air out of me. The back of my head bounced off what felt like rocks, leaving me momentarily dazed. As I gasped and tried to ready a spell, it leapt on top of me, raised its hand with what I swear was a triumphant hiss, and slammed it into my left side with every bit of power it had. 

One of those great, clawed fingers drove straight through my ribs, breaking at least one of them as it penetrated the bottom of my left lung and continued through me. The pain was immediate and huge and shocking, and the power of the force spell I fired at it contained the energy of every bit of that pain and shock. 

I blew it to bits. As a rain of what had moments ago been a demon fell on me, I gasped and felt something was terribly _wrong_ aside from the obvious pain. I couldn't sit up to see what the damage was, but I felt the area cautiously. I may have blown the rest of the demon into salad toppings, but the clawed digit that had slammed into me was still embedded there. It was incredibly painful, but probably better that it was still there because it was at least blocking anything from bleeding out. 

I lay there gasping shallowly, feeling oddly detached from what I was experiencing and wondering where the others were. A brief eternity later I heard Dorian calling my name. I couldn't answer; that would have involved taking a deeper breath and I'd never felt that kind of pain in my life. I was also beginning to fade in and out, making clear thought difficult. 

I heard Sera shout _he's here_ and then _ooooooh…shite!_ as she looked down at me. I may have floated off for a moment, because suddenly Dorian was next to me and Bull was staring at the mess my left side had become. Dorian was asking _what happened?_ while Bull asked him _Can you heal it?_

 _Certainly not with that thing still in him,_ Dorian replied, _and we daren't pull it out until we get him somewhere safer than this. I can stop the worst of the bleeding but…Kaffas!_

I wanted to tell Dorian I didn't think he'd be able to heal something that big, and wondered how they were going to get me anywhere safe. They got me to swallow a healing potion and Dorian did what he could, but it wasn’t going to be enough. The pain was still so huge I couldn’t begin to quantify it. 

After some frantic discussion I didn't quite follow (being distracted by pain and the difficulty of trying to breathe around the thing impaling me), Bull picked me up like I was a child. That hurt so much I greyed out for a few minutes, then spent another acutely uncomfortable eternity being transported to camp. I thought of a few wryly pithy things to say about my situation, but couldn't work up the energy or courage to try to say them. Not when every step Bull took jostled me and sent shocks radiating from my left side. 

They set me on what I think was the requisition table and cut away my useless armour. Somewhere along the line the team who had gone after the Venatori joined the crowd around the table. Solas probed carefully around the piece of fade demon still embedded in me and said it would have to be removed immediately because _possibly due to the Anchor and his natural connection to the Fade as a mage, the demon remnant is trying to bond with him._

Dorian: _You mean it's trying to become part of him?_

Solas: _Precisely. I haven't seen anything quite like it before, but to allow it to continue will kill him._

I already felt cold and in a great deal of pain, but that made me feel sick. There followed some heated discussion about how to do it. The consensus was to yank it out with brute force and be ready with every healing spell and potion available to dose me with the second it was removed. Solas would take care of ensuring all traces of the demon were excised. 

They warned me it was likely to be fantastically painful. I managed a nod and a gaspy, "Just get it out." 

Dorian cast a binding spell to keep me still and took my right hand in his. Bull wrapped his hand around the chunk of demon protruding from me and on a count of three, yanked on it with all his considerable might. It tore out rough and reluctantly and I freely admit I screamed in pain before passing out. 

I remember virtually nothing of the next several days as I was kept unconscious. I know it was a near thing, which is why they didn't worry themselves about preventing the scarring. It was enough of a battle to keep me alive; aesthetics weren't a priority. I woke up in a bed at an inn in the nearest village, weak and sore and disoriented but not dead. 

I won't go into detail about the several weeks I spent recovering, except to mention part of that time was spent at the same inn where I awoke. Shortly before my return to Skyhold, I had a very heated argument with my advisors about whether it should be admitted that the Inquisitor/Herald of Andraste _could_ be seriously injured, let alone that he had. I won the argument because there really was no way to hide that I was still in rough shape, but they did get to put their own heroic spin on how I came to be injured. It was annoying, but it kept them happy. 

**###**

"And that's the short version of the story," I finished. 

"So what did they tell people?" Kaeso asked. "I would think battling demons is about as heroic as one can get." 

"Not when catastrophic armour failure leads to a freakish sort of impalement," I said drily. "That sounds too much like an accident, and Andraste doesn't _do_ accidents. They prettied up the official version to sound more heroic and less catastrophic. Some nonsense about exhaustion after closing some staggering number of rifts in a matter of days." 

Kaeso snorted laughter. "That sounds exactly like the Chantry. How you could be around those people for that long without killing any of them is beyond me. I'm surprised they didn't try to pretty you back up, though." 

I shrugged. "By the time anyone gave it much thought, it was far too late to do anything about the scars, so I've got them as a permanent souvenir." 

"What does Dorian think of that?" 

"He seems to be fine with them," I said. 

"How about that. I suppose he'd draw the line at them being on himself. I _like_ them," Kaeso said with a grin. 

"You would."


	80. A Ball In a Bowl

I’d changed my mind about that 'marginally more comfortable' thought by the time I woke. Maybe it was just that I was getting older or, more likely, that I _had_ nearly killed myself just days ago, but I'm sure every single muscle I had was aching. I sat up with an involuntary groan, only thinking afterward that others might still be asleep. 

I needn't have worried. Kaeso was sitting by the fire we’d built and banked the night before (not caring one whit that we may have ruined the finish on the highly polished floor). Fadik was nowhere to be seen. Dorian was still lying next to me, but he cracked an eye open and said, "You sound like I feel. Kaffas." 

For a wonder, Kaeso just looked at me with a slight smile and said, "Is that your way of saying you want coffee?" 

I grunted an affirmative and got laboriously to my feet, muttering, "I'm getting too old for this shite." 

Dorian sat up, wincing. "My back shall never forgive me for this. I say the next adventure we embark on should involve investigating a mysterious unevenness in the fluffiness of the meringue at many of the finest inns in Tevinter." 

"As long as they comp us their best suite as part of the deal," I agreed. "Where's Fadik?" 

"The little Qunari's room," Kaeso said. "How can you drink this stuff?" He handed me a cup of black coffee as I sat on one of the wobbly stools. 

"I've seen you drink coffee," I retorted. 

"Yes, in a _civilized_ manner, with a spot of milk and some sugar or honey to make it palatable." 

"If drinking it black makes me barbaric, so be it. I don't want my coffee tasting like candy." 

"You'll never win, Kaeso," Dorian advised him. "Back in a moment." 

An hour later Dorian and I were back at it. As we were doing dry runs with objects, Kaeso and Fadik were watching with some interest. 

Perhaps due to the tight parameters Dorian was trying to cast within, the stasis spell had a nasty habit of _pulsing_ anywhere from a second to ten seconds after he cast it. I was having a demon of a time compensating for that with my containment spell; that pulse kept weakening the structure of the containment and we didn't want it breaking out at an inopportune moment. 

"Why? What would happen? Seems like an awfully small area to be that worried about," Fadik said. 

"We're not sure what would happen," I explained. "The time magic doesn't like to be constricted like that. It might just pull the orb and Kaeso's hand into itself, which would mean Kaeso's hand would enter its timeline, defeating the entire purpose." 

"Or depending on how it broke out of the containment field, it could expand, collapse, or go flying across the room until it reacted with something," Dorian continued. "Which doesn't sound terrifying until you consider it could make time itself unstable within its field of influence. For instance, what if it reacted with your heart or Kaeso's left eye, yanking them out of time with the rest of you?" 

"And you wonder why you scare people," Fadik said drily. 

"Why my left eye?" Kaeso demanded. 

The trickiest part of all was going to be including every bit of the cradle in the time-freezing spell without including any of the orb. Once the orb was lifted even a bit I could expand and strengthen the containment spell to give us more (ha-ha) time, but those first few seconds were going to be crucial. We took more time examining the set-up. Those metallic threads were the worst. They were clearly designed to react the moment the orb was touched. 

"Kaeso, you need to lift it as slowly and smoothly as possible," I said. "Hopefully I can expand the container as you lift it so there's no interruption." 

He raised an eyebrow. "Really, Kai, I don't see the need for admonishment. I fully intended to lift it as you said." 

"Well, it bears repeating. Particularly after your little stunt in the statue room." 

We put together a model that approximated — crudely — the set-up on the pedestal and practiced working with Kaeso. As we'd seen so often before, once he was _working_ , all sign of frenetic self-absorption left him. He was as focused and professional as we were, asking intelligent questions and offering opinions that actually had worth. That was why Dorian and Mae kept him working with the Lucerni, and why we hadn't been concerned about his accompanying us publicly to Madauros in the first place. 

Kaeso was also as good as his claim. Even when we put increasingly flimsy threads under our makeshift orb, he was able to remove it without them so much as quivering. 

"I wish we knew how heavy the blasted thing is," Dorian said. "Amatus? You picked up Fen'Harel's, didn't you?" 

"A few times, but I can't help. The first time was at the Conclave, and I got too distracted by everything else it was doing to note its weight." 

"Fair enough," he nodded. "Nothing to add the second time?" 

I shook my head. "The thing was practically levitating, it had so much magic running through it. Then when it killed Coryphy-shit it broke in half. I have no idea how much the thing weighed when it was just sitting there like this one. However, I don't recall it being particularly heavy." 

"How long can you keep the cradle stuck in time?" Fadik asked. 

"I'm not sure," Dorian admitted. If we're lucky, an hour or more." 

"And if we're not?" 

"A matter of minutes, I expect. As long as we don't trigger it, we should be able to get quite a ways away before it notices we've fooled it." 

"Speaking of that, did you find us an exit?" I asked Fadik and Kaeso. 

"Probably," she said. "There's a long passage just past the facilities room that branches to the left. We went quite a way up it, and while we didn't see the opening, there is a steady breeze blowing through there and the air is fresh." 

"So it could be nothing but a vent hole too," I concluded. 

"It could, but at least it seems to lead upward." 

"Well, let's steal Kaeso's orb first. Are we ready to do this?" 

Everyone concluded we were as ready as we'd ever be. 

We gathered our gear and got it ready to go. As long as we made no mistakes, we wouldn't need Fadik's help on this one, so she was put in charge of keeping watch and making sure everyone got his gear as we left the chamber. 

Dorian and I had one more careful look at the pillar and cradle. Aside from the magic held in the orb — an unknowable quantity, but we were assuming it was powerful — there were spells imbued in the cradle, but none were active. Everything still pointed to it being safe as long as it wasn't triggered. 

"We could still just leave the orb here and leave, you know," Dorian said. 

Kaeso glared at him. "I thought we'd gone over this already." 

"We could, but we're not going to." That was me saying that; I'd given up fighting the compulsion, at least for the time being. 

"Then let's get this nug in the oven, shall we?" Dorian made a show of cracking his knuckles and shaking his hands out in a 'limbering up' fashion. 

Now I glared at him. "Really, love, do you have to use that idiom?" 

He blinked. "Oh, I suppose that isn't the best expression, is it? It's Mae's fault, you know. She picked it up from her husband, and she decided to dust it off recently. It seems to have adhered to my mind. Sorry." 

"What's wrong with it, other than it being something the servants would say?" Kaeso said. 

I shrugged. "I like nugs." I didn't _think_ Kaeso would do anything to Swivet if he knew about him, but you could never be entirely sure with Kaeso. 

"So do I, with a nice orange sauce," he said with a smirk. 

"How Antivan of you," Dorian drawled. 

"Are you boys going to get this done or just stand around sniping amusingly at each other?" Fadik said. 

"I, for one, can't help being witty. It's part of my charm," Dorian said. "But she's right — we should do this." 

I nodded and threw a barrier around us and the pillar just in case something went wrong right away. "You're first. Just say the word when you want me to throw on the containment spell." 

Dorian took a few deep breaths and approached the cradle. With meticulous, close-up work like this, his staff was virtually useless, so he'd left it strapped to his back. I switched to the magical spectrum to observe what he was doing; it's a joy to watch someone with his ability work. 

Before actually casting, he was carefully building the spell, using his talent and will to weave it precisely around and through the cradle, tracing every single gossamer-like thread. How do I describe it to someone who can't see in the magical spectrum? The closest I can come is to liken it to sculpting with light if the light possessed a primitive consciousness. That's where your will comes into play. You might say that spellcasting is using your magical ability to manipulate reality coupled with your will to convince the world to accept your version of reality rather than its own. The stronger both magical ability and will are, the more powerful the mage. 

That may be one reason so many of us are construed to be egotistical — it takes a strong-willed individual to be a high-level mage, and we tend to develop a high degree of self-regard along with it. 

It took him several minutes to get it configured as he liked, and then more to make sure there was nothing missed. 

Finally he said, "Get ready, amatus," and began casting, channelling the magic through himself and into the spell, leashing the volatile time magic into its latticework. I saw the moment it finished and locked in; there was a harmonic to it that even Kaeso and Fadik told us later they felt. 

I'd been readying my containment spell the entire time, and now directed it carefully and exactly along the same lines as Dorian's spell. As I'd expected, the time spell pulsed while I was in the middle of constructing it, but the dry runs had paid off and I was able to compensate. It took less than five minutes before the time-freezing spell was fully contained. 

"Now if we did this right, Kaeso should be able to reach in and simply pick up the orb," I said. "I'll be expanding the containment spell as he does." 

Kaeso approached the pillar, squinting as he angled his head. "It would help if I was above it. Dorian? Can you float me up a few handspans?" 

Dorian frowned. "I need to monitor the time spell. I'd rather not divide my attention." 

" _Vashedan_ , it's obvious," Fadik said as she stalked over to us. "I'll pick you up, Spindly. Just tell me when." 

"Do try not to wobble, fumble or twitch me about, would you?" Kaeso didn't look happy, but it was the most expedient solution. "I'm going to need my arms free." 

"Trust me. I'll get just as killed as the rest of you if we fuck this up." 

She lifted Kaeso so he could come in from above. He reached down with the same smooth precision he'd shown in practice, not touching the orb until he was ready to lift it. He gave me a quick nod and pulled it out of the cradle with surgical grace and speed. I expanded the containment spell under it, pushed a little more power at it to strengthen it and retreated, leaving the spell firmly in place. Dorian had already done the same with his piece of frozen time. 

"I suggest we depart this dread chamber quickly and admire Kaeso's ill-gotten gain later," Dorian said. "I made the spell as solid as possible, but it _will_ decay and I don't know at what rate." 

Kaeso stuffed said ill-gotten gain into a leather pouch he slung over his shoulder. 

We grabbed our gear and made a hasty retreat out the doorway and into the tunnel that hopefully led to the surface. The light that had come on in response to our presence in the chambers didn't extend to the tunnel, so once again it was up to us mages to cast light. This time I took the lion's share of the job, as casting the time spell had temporarily depleted most of Dorian's reserves. 

They were right — the tunnel went up at a moderate incline, and we could feel and smell fresh air. We reached a wall and could see the tunnel continued at the top of it. It was about ten feet high, so Fadik simply boosted us up one at a time, then she gave a prodigious leap and we helped pull her up. We continued down the tunnel. 

Here and there odd lichens glowed weakly, but they didn't offer much in the way of lighting so I kept casting. This was where one of those mage staffs with the glowy ball on the end would have come in handy, but I hadn't brought one and Dorian's wasn't configured for glowiness. The fresh air was now a constant, light breeze but its source was maddeningly elusive. 

We were climbing a moderate grade which was letting me know I still wasn't fully recovered. I found myself breathing heavily and having to work to keep up with the others. I tried to tell myself it wasn't surprising, but it worried me a little. _How many times can I take serious damage to myself before some of it sticks?_ I didn't count my left arm into that quotient because it had been magically removed, not that that made me feel any better about it. 

We encountered another small cave-in. Fadik moved the worst of the rocks impeding our way as Dorian and Kaeso removed anything that might be a hazard. I cast light and leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath. We climbed over the rocks to find the corridor littered with rubble but mostly intact. Patches of moss had joined the lichens on the walls and it continued relentlessly up. 

Another ten minutes of trudging and Dorian dropped back next to me. "Are you all right, amatus?" he said quietly. 

I nodded. "Just a little out of breath and feeling it from this climb. I probably shouldn't have been pushing it like this, but I was hardly going to stay in the undercity indefinitely." 

"I rather feel like I could sleep for a week, myself," he said with a wry smile. "You've really got to stop picking adventures that demand this much physical effort from us." 

"There was quite a bit less combat than we expected." 

"You should know by now not to say that sort of thing until we're out of here. Statements like that are just _inviting_ trouble." 

"You're right; I _should_ know better. That was a pretty piece of spellcasting back there. That's twice you've impressed me now." 

His smile was uncomplicatedly happy. "Thank you. It _was_ pretty, wasn't it. I wasn't sure I could do something that precise with your healing _or_ the time spell." 

"I knew you could." 

He pulled me into a quick kiss while we kept walking, and a faint smile remained on his face. That I could make him feel that good made me feel a little better. 

We hit another drop-off and clambered up. A few minutes farther on we found a skeleton still dressed in mouldering remnants of leather armour, a piece of a broken axe near its outstretched hand. There was nothing to indicate how they died. I'd seen so many of those lonely remains throughout Thedas it no longer fazed me, though it was always sad. 

There was more rubble on the floor now and we were running across things that suggested we were nearing some sort of exit. Patches of dirt, something that could be a broken boot lace, charred wood, a small pile of animal bones, a swollen wad of paper that may have been someone's journal before it got soaked with water, all gave us hope it wouldn't be much longer. 

We rounded a bend and stopped. "Well, there's our exit," Fadik said sourly.


	81. Escape

There was light shining in from a good-sized opening that happened to be twenty or more feet above us up what appeared to be a sheer wall. Dorian joined me in casting light as we approached the wall. There were what could loosely be called hand- and footholds going up as far as we could see, but I really wasn't eager to try them, and my companions were in agreement. 

"Is there anything around that might be a magical trigger to gives us some proper steps?" Kaeso asked. 

"I'd even settle for a rope ladder," Fadik added. 

Dorian and I made a slow circuit of the dead-ended corridor, each of us taking a side. "I don't see anything helpful," I said. 

"Nor I," Dorian said, "Though it would be quite unlike the builders of this place to exempt this spot from their lovingly-crafted puzzles and traps." 

"What if you fired your staff at the wall?" Fadik suggested. 

Agreeing it was worth a try, Dorian sent a blast of fire at the wall. It glowed for a moment, but that was all. Ice got the same reaction—a brief residual glow. He tried spirit magic, as that what had lit the sigils, but nothing happened. Lightning was the same. He glared at the wall. "There's _something_ there. Can you feel it?" 

I focused on the wall, nodding slowly. "I just put it down to residual magic, but it could be more." 

"Well, I've tried everything obvious. Let's go for something less obvious." He gave his staff a flourishy little spin and cast a resurrection spell at the wall. 

The entire thing glowed purple-black and for a long moment it looked as though it wasn't a rock wall at all, but a solid mass of neatly stacked skulls. 

"I think it likes you," Kaeso said. 

"That's all well and good, but I need it to want to help me," Dorian said. "What do you suppose would make a wall of skulls happy?" 

"They're already grinning. How much happier can they get?" Fadik deadpanned. 

"Do you think this wall really is made of skulls?" Kaeso seemed delighted at the thought. 

"What if we cast a simple animation spell over top of your reanimation spell?" I asked Dorian. "Seems like something a fan of constructs might like." 

He smoothed his moustache, thinking. "That might work. But what would we be animating?" 

"I haven't any idea," I said with a shrug. "But I'm trying to think in terms of what strengths whoever made all this had. They're fond of puzzles and constructs, so…" 

"Worst case scenario, what could happen?" Fadik asked. 

"We could animate the entire wall, which might then break apart and attack," Dorian said cheerfully. 

"Sounds like fun," Fadik said with a grim smile and a colourful swish of her greatsword. 

"You might want to give it a try," Kaeso said. "I may be imagining it, but I think I hear something." 

" _Venhedis_. The spell may have worn off," I swore. 

"How do you want to go about this?" Dorian asked. 

"You boys might want to speed up the strategy conference this time," Fadik said. 

We could all hear it now — just a faint, unidentifiable something of a sound, not yet close enough to resemble anything. We didn't want to be there when it became identifiable. 

After a few moments to coordinate, we tried the most generalized thing we could come up with. Dorian cast another reanimation spell while I cast a diffuse animation spell at a section of the wall (that school of magic isn't one I know well, but over the years you tend to pick up a little bit of everything). 

The skulls reappeared and one of them moved a little. When they faded back into rock, a section of stone had moved a few inches out from the wall. "If this makes a way out and not a random portrait of whoever was Archon at the time, I'd say you're going to need to add more power and focus to your half of this combination, amatus," Dorian said. "I know you claim you don't need a staff, but…" he looked at me doubtfully. 

I gave him a sideways smile and pulled out one of my crossbows. "Look closely at the stock." 

He took it from me and inspected it carefully for the first time, even though he'd used it before. A smile slowly spread across his lips. "Why, aren't you clever. You've made the stocks into small staffs, haven't you?" He handed it back to me. 

"I've always intended these should incorporate magic as completely as possible. Of course, I've given up some of the punch of a full-sized staff, but I thought it a fair trade-off." I couldn't quite keep the grin off my face. 

Fadik cleared her throat loudly, swishing her sword in a circle. It made a piercing chirp. 

"Right. We should do this," I said. 

"Sound's getting closer and uglier," Kaeso reported. "I think we've angered their defense system." 

So Dorian started at the bottom of the wall with me casting a strengthened animation spell. This time the skull-stone moved farther out until it resembled a step. "That's got it," he said. "Let's see if they form something useful." 

Within a few minutes, we had a long, narrow stairway snaking up the wall. 

"How long will it last?" Fadik asked. 

"No idea, so we might want to get moving," I said. 

"You and Kaeso go first in case we need to re-cast," Dorian ordered. They wasted no time, for the sound was getting louder as whatever-it-was approached. It was beginning to take on a buzzing, clattering tone I didn't like. 

Kaeso took the lead, running agilely up the steps without a moment's hesitation. Fadik followed more carefully, her greater bulk making the climb more treacherous. Then came Dorian, with me anchoring. It was the most efficient order from a spellcasting perspective, as my spells needed to follow and overlay his, but I probably would have insisted he precede me regardless. 

Ahead of us, Fadik tottered for a moment on a particularly narrow step but recovered, growling low in her throat as she continued placing her boots with firm deliberation, smart enough not to rush. Kaeso reached the top and bounded out of sight. Dorian followed close behind her, and I was just as close to him. The sound was getting louder. 

"I've heard that before somewhere," I said. "I can't quite place it, but it wasn't good." 

"The Fade, perhaps?" Dorian said. 

"No, not there. It was…damn. It's right on the tip of my mind. I suggest we get out of here as quickly as possible, though." 

"Working at it," Fadik grunted. "They did not build these steps with my kind in mind." 

We passed the halfway point with the steps showing no sign of fading. None of us spoke, instead concentrating on the climb, though occasionally Fadik swore under her breath. Whatever was coming for us was getting closer, and that noise was setting my nerves on edge. I wanted to tell Fadik to speed it up, but knew that was likely to simply make her rush and make mistakes. 

_I knew that sound…_

Three quarters of the way up the wall. Falling off the narrow steps now could cause serious injury; perhaps even kill if one landed wrong. I looked down and couldn't tell if the bottom steps were still there. And that buzzing clattering _noise_ sounded like it was at most just around the bend before the dead end we were escaping. It made me think of 

A stone-floored room, cleared by the simple expedient of pushing stacks of goods back to form a perimeter; 

An aquarium; 

A prettily-decorated little cake that spelled _traitor_ in icing. 

I remembered. 

"Oh, fuck me. Fadik, _move!_ " I shouted. "Dorian, get ready to cast the strongest fucking barrier you've ever cast." 

"What is it?" Fadik shouted back as Dorian risked glancing over his shoulder at me. 

"I know it won't mean anything to you, Fadik, but Dorian, does the name _Senex Miseria_ ring a bell?" 

His eyes widened. "Fasta vass, are you sure?" 

"I'll never forget that sound. Fadik, it's an insectile construct that you do _not_ want to encounter and there's a fucking swarm of them behind us." 

She swore again and tried to pick up her pace. The noise was swelling behind us and I was torn whether I wanted to look back or not. I decided to concentrate on climbing, but cast a barrier just in case. 

Fadik finally made it to the top, waiting to give Dorian and me a hand up as we followed close behind. She grasped my forearm and almost singlehandedly hauled me up, yelping, " _Vashedan,_ what are those things?" 

I didn't waste time looking below me, just said, "I'll tell you once we're out of here. _Run._ " 

Dorian cast a barrier spell at the same time as I refreshed mine and we ran for the exit, which was an opening in the cave wall not much wider than Fadik. As I bolted through last, I swear I _felt_ the vanguard of those damned constructs hitting my barrier. The light after the dark of days underground was dazzling, but I just squinted and hoped I didn't trip over anything as I kept running. 

Then to my consternation, I ran _past_ Dorian. He'd stopped and turned back with a look of distaste. As I spun around to ask what he thought he was doing, he cast a wall of flame and I understood. The swarm was literally right behind us — a cloud of insects all about the size of my thumb, flying towards on four clattering, translucent wings. They were mottled grayish black and spongy-looking, as though they had recently started to rot, with two nasty chelae at the front and an even nastier barbed stinger at the back. We knew what those stingers could do. 

I cast my own wave of flame right behind his, threw up another barrier spell and shouted, " _Go._ They can't have too vast a range." At least I hoped they didn't. As soon as he acknowledged my words with a brisk nod, I wheeled back around and sprinted. 

The opening had let out on a rocky area peppered with scrubby tuffets of mostly brown grass and a few skinny, dispirited trees. To the right was a rock wall. Left was an uneven pathway leading roughly downward, and ahead of us, across a flat area perhaps fifty paces wide, were a series of rocky outcroppings and a more substantial path away from there. We ran for the outcroppings, which Fadik had just reached. 

Behind me, I heard Dorian curse. I don't think he'd finished hitting the ground in the time it took me to turn back and see that he'd slipped on an uneven patch and gone down. I cast a barrier on him and another blast of flame at our pursuers as I reached him. He was just slapping two of the wretched bugs off himself. 

"Are you all right? They didn't sting you, did they?" I reached out to give him a hand up. 

He shook his head, grunting he got to his feet. "No, just attached themselves to my armour. Hold still." He fired a precise little bolt of electricity just behind me, following that up with another barrier spell. 

"Thank you. Ready to go, then?" I asked. 

"I believe so. Only my dignity seems to be injured." 

We ran, diving behind the outcroppings moments later. 

"I think you can relax," Fadik said. "Look." 

We looked. The swarm had stopped about a body's length from the rocks, buzzing and clattering angrily. They circled and seethed before us for a few more minutes, then like a thinking cloud turned back toward the caverns. I sat on the ground with my back against the rocks and pulled out my water flask. Dorian did the same. 

"That was far too close for comfort," I said between swallows. 

"That's what happens when you travel with ox people," Kaeso said as he ambled up to us. 

"Kaeso, go fuck yourself. I'm not in the mood," I snarled at him. 

"Considering you've _never_ admitted to being in the mood to fuck me, I fail to see how I can feel put in my place by that remark," he said, smirking. 

"Perhaps we should ask Fadik to carry you back to the caverns and throw you to the swarm for that remark," Dorian said. 

"What do those things do that got you in such a panic?" Fadik asked. 

"Yes, I didn't recognize them," Kaeso said. "They are constructs, then?" 

I nodded. "Nasty ones. You get stung, the toxin eats away your skin for a few days, leaving a healing-resistant open wound. If you survive the likely infections, you wind up permanently scarred." 

"One sting would be bad enough, but they come in swarms," Dorian added. 

"Are those things common up here?" Fadik said. 

"Not at all. From all I've gathered, they're quite difficult and time-consuming to construct," Dorian said. 

"Judging from the size of that swarm, someone didn't find it either," she said drily. 

"I could see the value in keeping a small collection of them around in case you needed to torture someone over a longer period of time." I didn't care for the calculating look on Kaeso's face, but I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. 

I _was_ mildly surprised when he shrugged a moment later. "However, not the sort of thing I care to bother with. What I'd like to know, Kai, is how you came to be so familiar with them that you recognize them." 

"Someone tried to send a swarm of them after me. It didn't work." 

He waited a few beats then said, "No details?" 

"No. It's not something I care to revisit." 

"Honestly, Kai, there you go again, withholding information that could bring us all closer together," he said mournfully. 

"I'll take you out for drinks instead. It'll be more fun, you'll see." 

"Does anyone have any idea where we are?" Dorian said. 

"On a mountain?" I offered. He gave me a narrow-eyed glare. 

"Well, Spindly, did you happen to look for an answer to that while you were up here all by yourself?" Fadik said. 

"You weren't _that_ far behind me. And it just so happens I did try to assess our location." 

She raised an eyebrow. "And?" 

"We're on a mountain." 

I couldn't help a slight smirk at that. 

"Then we might want to try getting _off_ the mountain or even to somewhere semi-civilized before night falls. Mountain country tends to get cold at night," Fadik said. 

"I seem to recall swearing off mountains a few years ago for just that reason," Dorian said. 

I pushed myself to my feet with a slight grunt of effort. "Fadik's right. This isn't the ideal spot to set up for the night. On top of the obvious drawbacks, there may still be someone down in that labyrinth who wants their orb back." 

"So do we follow the big, obvious path or the sketchy one?" Dorian stood too, indulging in a series of stretches that I watched with idle enjoyment while I thought. 

"Where do you need to go?" Fadik asked. 

"Madauros, ideally," I replied. "All our things are there. This area also isn't so highly inhabited that we can count on finding a town in any direction." 

"You don't have some sort of locator spell you could cast?" 

"Sorry, no." 

"So all we know is we're a few days walk from Madauros, give or take, and it could be in any direction," Kaeso said. 

"That is correct. We also have no source of water and precious little in the way of supplies in general," Dorian said with false cheer. 

"This will probably turn out to be a fatal error, but perhaps we should stick to the big, obvious path," I said. "There's usually a reason they're made big and obvious. Being a route to Madauros could be one." 

"Sounds as reasonable as anything else," Fadik said. "Which direction?" 

"Your guess is as good as mine." I essayed a few stretches myself and it did help a bit. 

"We were heading down to get here, so we should probably try up," Kaeso said. 

Dorian groaned. "I was afraid someone was going to say that." 

We headed up, keeping eyes out for enemies, water supplies or signs of civilization. The first hour or so we saw none of those. There was just craggy, brownish-grey rock, patches of tough, brown grass, and as we got farther away from the catacombs entrance, hardy, coniferous trees. We rounded a bend and to our right the land dropped away. We stopped, looking over the edge of the cliff. We appeared to be in the foothills of the mountain, which towered high above us. The trees had become a forest and our path continued at a gradual angle up the slope. We couldn't tell where it led. 

"If there are bears I shall put in a formal complaint," Dorian announced. 

"Is this even the same mountain?" Kaeso said. 

"Damned if I know," I said. "Guess we should find out. Anyone have any idea what time it is? Do we need to look for a place to camp?" 

Fadik judged it was mid-afternoon, so if the city didn't reveal itself in the next hour we'd have to add campsites to our list. 

"Let's not forget they still might come after their orb," I added. 

"Well, aren't you just the butterfly of happiness," snarked Kaeso.    

"What's it supposed to do?" Fadik asked as we commenced walking again. 

"Nothing good," Dorian said darkly. I agreed with him, but it seemed I wasn't even allowed to do that aloud. 

"You don't know that," Kaeso said. "Just because the one _you_ saw was being used for evil. For all you know this one is used to spread joy and happiness to the downtrodden masses." 

"And that's why your buyers are the Sacer Saeculum," Dorian shot back. 

"They probably don't know what it does either. They're just hoping it will do something they want." 

"He's got a point. How could they possibly know what this one does?" I said. Dorian looked annoyed with me and I didn't blame him. He didn't say anything else, but I got the feeling I was going to hear about my behaviour later. I wondered if I'd be able to explain anything to him and mentally kicked myself for getting into this situation in the first place. 

The road kept going up, bending and curving as it did. After the day we'd already had I was feeling increasingly exhausted, but kept my mouth shut about it. Everyone else was looking just as tired. Another half hour passed during which no one talked. The views that occasionally opened up were spectacular — golden light streaming across the canopy below us and through the trees on either side of the road — but I couldn't bring myself to care. 

We rounded a particularly sharp bend that opened on another fabulous vista and saw it. "That's Madauros, isn't it," Fadik said sourly. 

"Uh huh," Dorian said. You knew he was tired if that's all he could come up with to say. 

The city was visible from our vantage point — as a distant gem on what looked like the mountain next to ours. We could see the road crawling to it, even. "It'll take two days to get back there," I said. 

"Shouldn't there be an inn or something along here?" Kaeso said. "It seems to be one of the main roads to Madauros. There must be an inn." 

"If it's not in the next few miles we're going to have to stop and set up camp," Fadik said. 

"With _what_?" he demanded. "We have the clothes on our backs, a few blankets we filched and a scrap of food. We can't even refill our water flasks." 

"So we suffer," I said flatly. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I've about had it today. I cannot keep walking all night." 

"Nor can I," Dorian said. "We may as well go a bit further and hope Kaeso's inn materializes. I'd even accept a mysteriously abandoned mining camp at this point." 

"You need to follow unmarked trails into the forest to find those," I said as we commenced walking again. 

"Is that how it works?" Kaeso said. "We should take the first unmarked trail we find, then." 

"Do that and we might miss your inn," Fadik said. 

We trudged on. I was starting to feel slightly ill. 

There was no inn. There were no unmarked paths of any sort. We finally had to admit defeat and look for a place to camp. On that at least we were lucky, finding a cleared area abutting the mountain on one side. The remnants of a fire pit suggested we weren't the first party to find ourselves stuck for the night. 

The one thing we wouldn't have to do was freeze. We worked together to construct a fire, gathering rocks to fashion a barrier and wood for the fire itself, then Dorian did the honours of lighting it. If things got really bad we'd be able to cast ice spells and melt that into water, but since the ice would of necessity be fashioned (or perhaps pulled?) from the raw Fade, it wouldn't be my first choice to drink. We pulled some flat stones up to the fire to supplement the fallen log that was already there so at least we wouldn't have to sit on the ground. Then Fadik pulled Kaeso off to look for water. 

I sat heavily on the log, resting my forearms on my thighs. I felt like I might never get up again. 

Dorian sat next to me. "Are you all right, amatus?" 

I shook my head. "No. I feel sick and exhausted and like I could lie down right now. I don't think I've felt this shite since we first went back out in the field after the fade demon." I was talking about the one that nearly killed me, of course. 

"Venhedis," he swore. 

"Don't worry, I think I'm just overtaxed. Nothing some sleep and a week's holiday won't fix." 

He shook his head, smiling faintly. "I suppose it's not quite fair to remind you that you were the one who wanted to take on this little adventure." 

"No, it isn't. But next time I start feeling too adventurous you're welcome to remind me of this." 

The others did manage to find a stream not too far away, so we'd be able to replace our water. We put together a meal of the bits we had left in our supplies and decided not long after finishing that we may as well just try to sleep. I was having trouble staying awake even while eating, but everyone else wasn't in much better shape. 

It wasn't going to be a comfortable sleep, but we did what we could with the blankets. I lay down next to Dorian and, despite the less-than-luxurious conditions, was out within minutes.


	82. Alptraum

I was walking down a long, echoing hallway. I recognized the architecture as ancient elven, though the statues set at regular intervals looked Tevinter. That told me two things: I was dreaming, and I was in the Fade. I gave a purely mental sigh and muttered, "Maker, not more ancient elf shite." 

A woman laughed throatily, though I saw no one. "It does get tiresome, doesn't it? For you doubly so, I imagine." 

Her voice sounded familiar, but I didn't get a chance to think about it. With the abrupt suddenness of dreams, the elven hall was gone. I was sitting in my favourite pub in Hasmal with a mug of cold beer in front of me. 

"Better?" she said. 

"Marginally," I answered. "Are you going to show yourself now?" 

There was no answer. Wishing I could trust the beer enough to take a drink, I waited for whatever was supposed to happen next. The pub looked almost perfectly as I remembered it, right down to the grain of the wood on the table. Only the clientele told me I wasn't really there. There were masked Orlesians, fur-clad Avvar, Tevinters wearing nearly as much black as I do, and at one table, three Fereldans and a Mabari hound. All four of them were playing a game of cards; the hound didn't seem to have any trouble manipulating the cards despite only having paws. The music was being provided by three elves with a Qunari stolidly keeping time on a drum nearly as tall as she was. 

A fennec the size of the Mabari pushed through the crowd to approach me. "Busy today," it said in an odd, scratchy voice. "You've been waiting for me." It jumped onto the chair closest to me and sat, arranging its bushy tail to wrap precisely around its front paws. 

"You — are you Mischief?" I asked it. 

"I am now." It gave me a toothy grin. "I have been ever since you killed me." 

"The last thing I wanted to do was kill you." 

"I know. I wasn't angry," it assured me. It raised its voice and yipped, "What does a fennec have to do to get a beer in this place?" 

A pudgy man so short he might have been a dwarf bustled up and placed a bowl of beer on the table. Mischief took a few delicate laps of it and said, "Delicious. You really shouldn't let yours go warm." 

I let my gaze wander around the pub while Mischief drank. The bartender was undead, but no one seemed to hold it against him. Three dwarven women were playing darts nearby, all of them throwing with uncanny accuracy. Every time a dart hit, the board screamed despairingly. It would have been distracting if it hadn't blended so well with the music. Over in a corner I saw Dorian in a passionate make-out session with a taller, solidly-built man who had longish brown hair, blue eyes and a carefully-trimmed goatee. I thought about warning Dorian the man hated mages, but he'd find out soon enough. I also wondered where that had come from; someone was apparently picking through my mind to provide the pub with stage decorations. I would have been happier if they’d left Dorian out of it. 

"Aren't you wondering why you're here?" Mischief asked, licking its chops. 

"I assumed you'd tell me. I don't suppose you're behind making me go against my every instinct with the orb?" 

"No, that comes from higher up, though I wish I'd thought of it." It licked busily at a spot of fur on its left shoulder for a moment then turned back to me. "I'm here to tell you a new game has begun. Or maybe it's the same game, but a new round. Regardless, you're players in it whether you like it or not." 

"What sort of game are we talking about?" I really wished I could trust that beer now. 

It twitched its ears in a way that suggested a shrug. "How should I know? I'm just a fennec." 

"Then why tell me?" 

"Because of Destiny," it said importantly; you could hear the capital ‘D’. "Because you and your Magister have been marked to do great things. Your deeds have and will continue to change the world even as the world changes you." 

"My Magister?" I looked over in the corner, where Dorian and Moss (that was the man's name — Moss) looked moments away from putting on a show the other patrons wouldn't soon forget. Even though I knew it was false and I needed to ignore them, it was pissing me off. 

"Well, yes. You've both been marked. Together, the things you will do are far more impactful than anything you might have done separately. And now destiny is in motion again, so you need to prepare." 

I narrowed my eyes at it. "Marked? Already did that. I didn’t enjoy it.” 

“Not _that_ mark,” it said in a put-upon tone. “Marked. Powerful forces have noticed you.”

“So, what — destiny decreed we'd meet and do world-changing things?" 

"First Destiny decreed _that_ you'd meet," it corrected me. "It took time to arrange everything so that would happen." 

"So you're telling me the universe bent over backwards arranging a thousand little things so Dorian and I would meet at the right time and place because we're destined for greatness." 

It flicked its ears. "In a nutshell, yes." 

I stared at it for a full minute and said, "Bollocks." 

"Is this fennec bothering you?" A woman's voice came from behind me, but it wasn't the one from earlier. She circled round to take a chair and I saw it was Sivra, the elven woman from Castra Nicia we'd freed. She was dressed like an Avvar warrior. It looked good on her. 

"No, but what it's saying is bollocks," I replied a trifle crossly. 

"What's bollocks about it?" 

"I refuse to believe I was chosen by the gods or even one god for anything. I don't believe in destiny." 

"Well it believes in _you_ ," Mischief said with another toothy grin. 

"Why should I believe anything you say?" I glared at it. 

"Because I'm cute. People like to believe cute things." 

"I agree you're cute, but that doesn't mean I believe you," I countered. 

"You're a very odd human," it said. "Most of you love being told you're special. You just get cross." 

"I found out some years ago being 'special' isn't all it's cracked up to be." 

"But you have to admit it makes a very good story." It grinned again. "It would have been better if at least one of you came from humble beginnings, of course. People love tales where the heroes come from humble beginnings." 

"Sorry I couldn't accommodate your narrative," I said drily. "Could you possibly tell me what game is in play without all the _chosen by your favourite deity or anthropomorphic personification_ nonsense?" 

"Perhaps you'd rather hear it from me," Sivra said. 

"Depends on whether you're going to tell me bollocks too," I said. 

"Yes, you tell him," Mischief said. "That was far too many big words for a fennec." 

Sivra smiled. "Would it help if we admitted you weren't Chosen?" 

"Continue." 

"You did — as you say — _dumbfuck_ into greatness, though you handled it with far more skill and grace than anyone expected. The role itself could just as easily been filled by any number of people. In another universe the Inquisitor was a Dalish elf." 

I found that idea interesting and filed it away to think about later. "I also walked away from it." 

She smiled as if I'd said something silly. "You walked away from that _role_ , not from who you are. You also chose a man with similar influence and ability to your own. You were never going to buy a little house by the seaside and retire quietly." 

"We still might. Someday. We could paint seascapes and collect driftwood to turn into cunning sculptures." 

One of the dwarven women won the dart game to much cheering and genial backslapping. As a prize, a dark-eyed elf presented her with a miniature polar bear. It nipped her on the nose and everyone laughed. 

"But instead you find yourselves here, and now there's another Orb in play." 

Now you could hear the capital ‘O’. "There wouldn't be if I had any say in it." 

"Well, that's the part of the game you have no control over. It's your own fault, really." 

"The Well of Sorrows again." 

She nodded. "Again." 

In the corner, Dorian said something to Moss. Moss stood straight up, a look of utter revulsion on his face, produced a large knife from somewhere and plunged it into Dorian's chest. 

I watched Dorian die again. 

Moss looked over at me. His mouth split his face wide, wider with a rictus grin. His teeth were all sharpened to points and his eyes had become pools of endless black. He held my gaze for a few moments then broke apart like snow blown by the wind. 

Even though I knew it was all a passion play put on by the Fade for my benefit, I found myself more unsettled than I cared to admit. I turned my attention deliberately back to Sivra even though Dorian's body was still lying dead on the floor in a spreading pool of blood. 

"Is that the only reason all this is going on?" I asked. 

"Of course not. Mischief does like to yank people's tails, but there's some truth to what it says." 

Mischief growled at her. "I always speak truth. Well, of a sort anyway." 

"There are things in motion that reach far beyond your little corner of this world," Sivra said, sipping on a drink she hadn't had a moment before. 

"I know that," I said testily. 

"Why do you think you were given your powers as a mage?" 

I blinked, a little baffled by her change of subject. "Dumb luck, I suppose. There's magic running through my father's line even though they hate to admit it." 

"Really? There have been others in your family with your degree of power?" 

"How would I know?" I frowned. "If there were, they got thrown into Circles and out of proper society, never to be heard from again." 

"You seem to ascribe the sort of power to dumb luck and happenstance that others ascribe to gods when it comes to shaping your destiny." 

"It's more plausible," I said. "I've met a few so-called gods. They seemed to be a load of manipulative assholes, if you want the truth." 

Mischief made a chuffing noise. It took me a moment to realize it was laughing. 

I chanced a quick glance into the corner. Dorian's body was still there. 

"They are powerful and mercurial," she said. "Tell me — do you think the gods have gods?" 

I rolled my eyes. "You know what? This is my dream and the direction it's taking is starting to annoy me. I'm leaving." I stood and stalked out of the pub, giving Dorian's body a wide berth. 

I closed the door behind me. What I'd walked into wasn't the northwest district of Hasmal. It was the back courtyard of my parents' estate in Ostwick. "Very pretty," Mischief remarked. "I like the flower boxes." 

"Decided to tag along, did you?" I said drily. 

"Well, you _did_ kill me. I didn't think you'd mind." 

"I don't recall you being this chatty and personable." 

"You'd _barely_ met me when everything went sideways." It sat down and scratched behind its right ear. "And as you said, this is your dream. You like people that are chatty and personable. We aim to please." 

"Yet your very nature means I should be wary of your wanting to accompany me," I pointed out. 

"Maybe I'm just being friendly. You _did_ try to protect me before you killed me. I liked that. But we spirits do tend to be true to our natures. We can't help it." It winked at me. 

"Hello, Kai," my father said as he rounded a nearby decorative shrubbery. "Nice to see you've got your proper arm back." 

I looked down and realized he was correct. My left arm was whole again. I closed and opened my left hand and felt every bit of the movement and for a moment felt like I might burst into tears. 

"Why won't you come to Tevinter?" I asked him. 

"I think you know the answer to that," he said. For the first time I noticed his eyes were almost the same colour as Kaeso's. "We have to look after Moss." 

_"Excuse me?"_

He raised an eyebrow. "I said I don't approve of Tevinter, nor will I." 

He started walking and I fell in beside him, Mischief trotting alongside me. Now we were on the path through the small, forested area my parents had added to the grounds after the Templars had taken me away. 

I glanced through the trees to my right. Far back, nearly obscured in shadow, was a statue of a demented-looking black bear holding a fishing pole. Its muzzle lifted as it bared its teeth in a creepy smile. I turned my attention back to the pathway. 

My father looked at me with Kaeso's eyes. "Kaeso. Is that your soulless friend?" 

"Are you reading my mind?" 

He gave me the concerned-but-not-really look he'd mastered. "Oh, am I not supposed to?" 

"It's very rude. And what do you mean soulless?" 

"Not as in Fen'Harel's alter ego, though I have no idea whether gods have souls." He smiled at his little joke. "I'm talking about your Tevinter friend." 

"He has no soul?" That could explain a lot. 

We reached the picnic bench and he sat. Mischief jumped onto the table and lay down, the tip of its tail twitching as it watched us alertly. 

"I suppose that's an exaggeration. There's one there, but it's vestigial and stunted. Surprising, really, how many people have souls like that." 

"I'm not sure why we're talking about Kaeso in the first place." I looked him in the eyes and remembered, but I'd already gone and said it. 

"Did you know you got Kaeso's power? That's why he's drawn to you." 

"That's nonsense, Father. You might have a leg to stand on if we were born the same moment, but I'm at least five or more years older than him." 

"Time is fluid outside the world. You should know that. Moss does and he's not even a mage." 

"Why are you talking about Moss? You don't even know him," I snapped. 

He looked at me like I was touched in the head. "Moss isn't a him. Moss is an it. See there? That's moss. I know it well." He pointed at a patch growing near one of the trees. 

I was beginning to dislike this dream. Why it had plucked Moss Lindner out of my mind I couldn't imagine. I hadn't thought of him in years. He was just an ex I'd never cared deeply about who turned out to have a serious hatred of mages, so I broke it off. 

"Why don't you two wait there? I'd like a moment to myself," I said. 

"Fine by me," Mischief said. 

"We put in a new stand of aspen at the far end of the trail; you should have a look," my father said. "But remember, son, ugly things often grow in pretty places." 

"I've seen that myself, Father." 

He nodded approvingly and I walked into the coolness of the small forest. What I really wanted to do now was wake up, but the dream didn't seem inclined to indulge me. For what felt like five minutes the forest was just like it was in the real world — a pretty, pleasant oasis of calm. I started to relax then caught a hint of movement through the trees to my right. 

Part of me thought I should just keep going, ignore it, go look at my father's new aspens, but I couldn't, of course. I cast a _don't notice me_ spell, though I wasn't sure it would have much effect, and walked as quietly as I could through the trees. 

Not far in was a small clearing. I stopped at the edge. Dorian (alive again) was tied naked between two trees and – there's just no delicate way to put this – Moss was fucking him savagely for all he was worth. (Though the real Moss always preferred to be on the receiving end.) 

I didn't want to watch it, but I couldn't _not_ watch, so I just stood there, staring stupidly at the tableau. Moss leaned in as if to nuzzle Dorian's neck while he thrust into him. There was a soft, tearing sound and Dorian groaned. Moss pulled his head back and gulped down a mouthful of flesh as Dorian bled. 

Then, even though I'd made no sound, Moss twisted around so he was looking at me while he continued to pound into my love. Blood stained his lips and dripped down his chin. He still had those black, empty eyes. He grinned again, and his animal teeth were streaked with blood. He turned away to resume his entertainment and his meal. 

I shouted _NO!_ and cast a freezing spell. It hit Moss, who again broke up like snow in a wind, swirling playfully before disappearing. The bonds dissipated at the same time and Dorian fell to the ground, making a horrid, piteous mewling sound I'd never heard before. 

I walked away. I was not going to accept that broken version of him. 

The forest path abruptly became rocky stretch of wilderness I remembered all too well. I saw them moving towards me — three of the demons they call greater terrors. I got ready to cast a barrier spell when something hit me hard in the back of the head. 

I didn't lose consciousness, but things greyed out for a moment and I went down to my knees. Someone snapped something around my neck and I felt the ghastly sensation of my powers being blocked. I twisted around as best I could to see who, dreading the answer. It was Moss, which was actually a relief. He was holding the knife he killed Dorian with back in the pub. 

"Long time no see, Kai. I hope you don't mind the collar, but I really despise mages." 

"What do you want, Moss?" I said calmly. 

"For the moment, stand up and hold still." He gave a yank on the collar as punctuation. 

I stood. We waited as the terrors loped up to us. Two stopped, flanking the third as it approached. It said, "Well done," in a voice like rocks grinding together. 

" _It's_ the one that wants something," Moss said. "I just like hurting mages." 

"You never used to." 

"I never knew you were a mage. And, as you can see, I've _changed_ since then." He tittered nastily. 

"So what does it want?" 

Moss shrugged. "Let _it_ tell you." 

"Remove his coat and shirt," the terror said. 

"I can do it myself," I said crossly. 

"But you won't," it replied and cast a binding spell on me. 

I couldn't move. I tried hard to keep from panicking as Moss yanked my coat off then cut off my shirt, making sure to catch my skin with the tip of his knife as he did. _Bastard._ The air was cold and damp. 

"Now first things first," the terror grated in a businesslike tone. "Fen'Harel wants the arm back." 

"Fen'Harel's fucking dead," I said. 

"Maybe, maybe not. Still wants the arm back. Since he's not here to do it nicely, I'm afraid it's going to be quite a bit more messy and painful. Moss?" 

I couldn't move, but I felt every bit of it as Moss ate his way around my forearm right where Solas had removed it the first time, then snapped the bones. The terror tore it off and tossed it to one of its companions. The other terror cauterized what was left of my arm with a gout of flame. Because this was a dream, I couldn't even pass out from the pain, which was so huge I didn't even scream. If I started I felt I might not stop. 

The terror smiled at me with a mouth that wasn't built to smile. "Now, you and I have some unfinished business." 

And I realized it was the terror I'd blown to pieces after it had driven one of its clawed fingers straight through my ribcage, nearly killing me. As it drew its hand back for a more successful do-over, I struggled against the binding spell and collar with everything I had and 

**###**

opened my eyes gasping. Dorian had a hand on my shoulder and was looking at me with sleepy concern. "—up, Kai," he was saying. 

"I-I'm awake." I sat up, hissing in pain as my back protested. "Maker's _balls_." 

"Bad dream?" he said as he stifled a yawn. 

_I saw you raped, eaten and killed, for starters._ "Yeah. You could say that." 

"You going to be all right?" 

I rubbed my eyes. The damned dream had left me feeling shaky and off-balance. "Eventually. Sorry." 

"Nothing to be sorry for, amatus." He smiled. "Come here, why don't you." 

I lay down and he wrapped himself around me. "Better?" he murmured. 

"Much." 

"Think you can get back to sleep?" 

"I'll try." 

For a wonder, I did, and this time there were no dreams.


	83. Back to Civilization

When we recommenced our trudge back to Madauros, I was still feeling off-kilter and uncommunicative. I wanted to go somewhere quiet and try to figure out what in that damned dream may have been important and what I could disregard as typical dream-stuff. I both did and didn't want to talk with Dorian about it because the parts he'd been in had been so unsettling. 

Fortunately everyone else's mood seemed to match my own. We were all sore and tired and underfed and a long day of walking stretched in front of us with no guarantee we'd be able to make it to town. Dorian didn't make one quip and Kaeso and Fadik couldn't even be bothered to bicker with each other. We just walked along in resigned silence. 

The more I turned the dream over in my mind, the more I became convinced the important part was the bigger game Mischief and Sivra had alluded to before it got ugly. Obviously Kaeso's orb had something to do with it, and just as obviously Mythal — in whatever form she'd taken — wanted it out in the world. I resented her manipulating me, but as Sivra had said in the dream, that part was my own fault. What annoyed me more was Mythal hadn't even had the decency to speak with me about it. 

Then there were the parts of the dream I didn't want to think about. Being a mage, I'd been trained from early on to exert control in my dreams, to enter them lucidly. It was a necessary safeguard against Fade demons, though in my experience actual demons were infrequent and it was much more common to encounter spirits. The point is, not only could I usually remember my dreams, but often they did have meaning. Sometimes they could even carry seeds of prophecy, though rarely in a form that was much use until it was happening to you anyway. 

I desperately did not want that dream to be prophetic. 

Two hours into our trek, I was walking a bit behind the others, hands stuffed in my coat pockets, staring only at the ground in front of me as I chased circular thoughts. I looked up when Fadik said, "Vashedan, you have got to be _fucking_ kidding." 

Sitting just around a bend in the road was an inn. It was a large two story building constructed of dark, reddish wood, with pretty, well-tended flower boxes out front and an expertly carved sign that read _Curious Fennec Lodge_. I half expected to see Mischief peering around a corner with a toothy grin on its snout. 

"I vote we check in and spend the night and who cares what time of day it is," I said. 

"It's that kind of keen decision-making that commanded the respect of so many," Dorian said. "I second the motion." 

"Well, they're not likely to be thrilled if I get us the rooms, so one of you should get your skinny backsides in there and get us checked in," Fadik said. 

"Despite the dreary way you worded that request, I shall do the honours," Kaeso said. "Would one of you care to cast me a quick clean-up spell? I'd rather not look like I slept on the ground all night." 

Dorian cast the spell, Kaeso slipped into _diplomatic aide_ mode, and in minutes we had three rooms. Even though we were hungry, our first priority was the bathhouse. I hate the feeling that all the grime and sweat has developed into a second skin, and I've felt that far too many times in my life. I was doubly pleased when it turned out their bathhouse actually consisted of several showers. I've always preferred showers, but a great deal of Thedas still seems to be devoted to sitting in a rapidly-cooling pool of water surrounded by all the ick you just washed off yourself. 

Once we'd all cleaned up, we met in the common room. It was close enough to lunch that we were able to order proper meals and we made the most of it. The food was basic inn fare — you had your choice of stew or sandwiches made with the same large joint of meat that had found its way into the stew — but it was flavourful and there was a lot of it. 

The innkeeper was a little leery of Fadik, but we made noises to suggest she was a bodyguard and he calmed right down. Once we finished eating, I felt very much like I could go straight back to sleep. I said so, and was mildly surprised (I don't know why) when the others agreed. We went to our rooms and, though I'd thought I might talk to Dorian about my nightmare, we both fell asleep within minutes of lying down. 

We woke a half hour before they were to start serving dinner, and made use of the time to shave. I was still a little sore, but felt worlds better as we headed downstairs. We ate again and spent most of the evening drinking in the common room. There were a handful of other guests at the inn, but everyone seemed content to keep to themselves. 

It was approaching midnight when we finally went up to our rooms again. I was still debating on telling Dorian about the dream when he said, "You've been rather broody tonight. Is it that dream you had?" 

I nodded as I gave my arm the mental command to let go. I'd been wearing it far longer than I should have, but at least I had a good reason this time. 

"Was it a true one?" He sat cross-legged on the bed. 

I set the arm carefully on the nightstand and arranged the pillow so I could use it as a backrest. "Parts of it, I think. Some of it was just the usual nightmare shit. Some of it was pure nonsense." 

"So which parts were which? You should tell me about it; I'm very good at interpreting dreams. Was I in it?" 

I studied his face, the way his eyes lit up with cheerful curiosity, and tried not to let the spectre of dream-Moss intrude on my thoughts. I exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Unfortunately, that's a part I'm devoutly hoping has no truth to it." 

"I didn't fare well in it?" 

I made a grunt of agreement. "I told you about Moss, didn't I? One of my unspectacular Ostwick relationships?" 

He fiddled with his moustache, thinking. "The name rings a bell because it's so odd. What parent would name their child after a small, flowerless plant that grows in clumps under trees? He wasn't the Templar, was he?" 

"No, the mage-hater." 

"Oh, _that_ one. I take it he made a guest appearance?" 

"Well, something wearing his face did." 

"Now that sounds intriguingly nightmarish. I take it we don't want this thing to cross over into our reality?" 

"We don't." I told him the dream in as much detail as I could remember (which was quite a bit — mage training saw to that). 

"…and then you were shaking me awake." Even recounting the dream, I'd had to edit out the part about what we were doing with the orb being against my will. _I should have let Morrigan drink the damn well._

"Venhedis." He'd moved up to sit next to me while I recounted the dream. Now he took my left arm in his hands, running them around the stump as he cast a small healing spell, knowing the skin got irritated when I'd worn the prosthesis too long. 

He's never shown a moment's revulsion towards my arm or the scars on my left side, and I've always been grateful for that. 

"You said some of it felt set up for your benefit. Do you think something _was_ interfering with you somehow? I ask primarily because of the new orb." 

"I don't know. It might be a little overly paranoid to assume that. It could just be that I was exhausted and uncomfortable. I think all the bits about you and I being _chosen_ was just Mischief 'yanking my tail', as it said." 

"Though it would explain how I turned out not only sublimely talented, but devilishly handsome as well." Dorian smiled complacently. 

"I don't like the sub-theme of something ghastly happening to you," I fretted. 

"I suspect that part was simply from being overtired and generally anxious after everything that happened earlier." 

I sighed. "You're probably right. Just…be careful, would you? I don't think I'd survive having to yank you back from the dead again." 

"Get sufficiently skilled in necromancy and you could, you know." 

I glared at him. "Dorian, I love you dearly, but I draw the line at having you lingering about as a walking corpse. Even you couldn't make that an attractive thought." 

"True. Death does unforgivable things to one's skin tone. I suppose I'll just have to live, then." 

"You could still train me in necromancy, though. I'd trade you knight enchanter tricks. If we ever get the time, that is." 

"The last time there may have been an opportunity, as I recall, you got fascinated with little, magically enhanced crossbows." 

"You were busy magistering, and Swivet is a lovely fellow, but not much of a conversationalist and he's terrible at cards." 

"Ah, yes, magistering." He looked up at the ceiling, his right hand resting loosely on my thigh. "I shall have to get back to that soon. I wonder what new and fiendish threats we'll face this year." 

"If what they were saying in the dream about a new round of games starting is true, I'll reiterate _please be careful_. Mae, too." 

He turned to look me in the eyes. "You think that part was true?" 

"It felt true." 

"Then tell me, amatus — why are you possibly facilitating this new and ominous activity by insisting Kaeso be allowed to take that orb to his employers?" 

I felt like sinking through the bed, but of course I showed none of that to his sharp gaze. "Like I said, I've just got a gut feeling about it. We need to let Kaeso deliver the thing. I wish there was more I could add. I mean, I know it sounds silly." 

He exhaled a puff of air. "I disagree, but your hunches have paid off before. I'll not worry about it until I have to say _I told you so_." 

"I don't blame you for being skeptical, but thank you." I slid down the bed, slouching my shoulders deeper in to the pillow. "The end of the damn dream was almost familiar territory." 

"Well, you've never conjured a cannibalistic mage-hating rapist before as far as I know." He had a slight smile as he said it. Of course, he hadn't seen what I had. 

"No, that's new and I don't like it. The idea that there's a Fade spirit who's taken on that persona is…terrifying, really. But on top of it, the demon talked to me. It's never done that before." 

"I don't think they _can_ in real life." Dorian slid down to lie on his right side, head propped in his hand while he continued to run his other hand lazily up and down my thigh. 

"It sounded like rocks. Other than that I've had variations on that one for years." 

He nodded. "I know. I wouldn't worry about it too much. You've just been overtaxed. We'll go home and do nothing for a time. That should get you back to your normal, whimsical self." 

I smiled. "I've been called many things, but I think whimsical is a new one." 

"Now you'll have to live up to it. If we're done dissecting your dream, perhaps you'd like to slide down here properly. I'm not sure what in your fevered mind led you to pair me up with some demonic version of an ex-boyfriend, but I feel duty bound to banish it from your thoughts, I hope you know." 

I didn't say my first thought: _It's because I'm terrified of losing you_. 

Instead I grinned and said, "Well far be it from me to stand in the way of your duty. Feel free to start banishing." 

=#= 

"There's a coach heading north that will be here in an hour," Kaeso said, sipping a cup of coffee with enough milk and sugar in it that he may as well have been drinking candy. 

"In a hurry to get away, Spindly?" Fadik asked. 

"Yes, I am," he said flatly, giving her one of those empty looks he sometimes allows through. 

"What about your things?" I asked. 

His personality turned back on. "Well, Kai, I was hoping since you'll be taking a coach back home anyway…" 

"That we'd take your things as well? What do you think, Dorian?" 

He tapped his upper lip with his index finger. "Well. He already owes us more than he's given. This would be one more favour. I don't know that he'll ever be able to sufficiently compensate us." 

"Oh, come now. I already gave you _nearly_ carte blanche in what you may demand of me," Kaeso complained. "My things barely amount to more than a valise. You wouldn't even notice it." 

"When and where were you planning on picking it up?" I asked. 

"Your place in Qarinus, I imagine, and after I drop this off with my employers and get our payment." 

"Perhaps it would be better if we met you in Qarinus," Dorian said. 

Kaeso scowled. "You just don't want me in your house. Why? What have I done to deserve this treatment?" 

"You say this knowing you've never even told us where you live," I pointed out. 

"Yes, well." He got that blank look again for a moment. "I suppose I have no proverbial leg to stand on, then. Fine. We'll meet at a location of your choice." 

"You mean you don't want us to know where you live?" Dorian asked with feigned confusion. 

"I find it works best if no one knows. Nothing personal." 

"Fine with us," I said with a shrug. 

He gave me a narrow look. "I must say, Kai, I'm surprised you're letting me walk away with this without so much as a peep. It's not like you at all. You're usually so conscientious." 

"Along with depths, I have _reasons_ ," I said. 

"I'm not sure I like you being this agreeable. We may have to have words if you keep this up." 

"Well, now we know how to make Kaeso nervous." Dorian grinned. "Just be too nice to him." 

"And to think, you have a reputation for being witty," Kaeso said. 

We made arrangements to meet with him in about three weeks, and an hour later watched him climb into the coach and depart, the orb secured in the leather pouch he'd strapped to himself. I wasn't any happier about it than Dorian, but couldn't so much as frown as the coach disappeared around a curve in the road. 

A few hours later we boarded our own coach that took us back to Madauros. We ate, got our gear out of storage and wasted no time hiring another coach to take us back to Qarinus. Fadik elected to come with us once we told her we had a device that would get her back south far more quickly than conventional travel ever could. 

There isn't much to tell about the journey back. I slept a great deal of the time, whether due to my _pulling Dorian back from death_ stunt or just general fatigue I don't know. We weren't waylaid by brigands or any other villainous sorts and reached Qarinus a day earlier than we'd expected. We used the dedicated sending crystal to briefly tell Alectius we were back and the mission was successful, and hired one last coach to take us to the estate.

I was sure the Archon would be pleased with our handling of the official mission. I just wished I could feel as pleased about the way our unofficial mission had ended. That orb being out in the world worried me even though I couldn't let on that it did.


	84. Part 9 - Hasmal

**_Back to the Marches_ **

We arrived at the house late in the evening, and I was pleasantly surprised to find I felt that I'd arrived _home_ rather than _at Dorian's estate._ It had taken a long time before I started feeling like I wasn’t _just visiting_ in Minrathous after a solid year of doing just that, then I’d had to start all over again when we moved to Qarinus. 

During the last leg of the trip, we’d been explaining our eluvian path to Fadik.

"And if I walk through this mirror, I'll find myself in Hasmal," Fadik said, scowling. She appeared to find the whole idea unsettling. Of course, she’d been raised in the Qun, who have a serious problem with magic.  It’s to her credit that she’s as open-minded about it as she is, I reminded myself. 

"Well, there is a short journey first, but in less than half a day, yes," I said. 

"It's a delightful place to travel through. You've never seen so many shades of grey in your life," Dorian said. 

"Ever been to a Qunari market on a busy day?" Fadik said with a sudden grin. 

"I'll concede to a degree, but even then the landscape does what it can, whereas through there the landscape is in collusion," Dorian said. 

"Unless you're an elf," I added. "Cam thought the sheer amount of colour was nearly eye-wrenching." 

"Well, I suppose if he went through, I can hardly beg off. I do owe him. He didn't need to save all my things." 

"He seems very fond of you," Dorian said. "We can go in the morning if you like." 

"You're coming with me?" She seemed surprised. 

"One of us must to trigger the eluvians," I said. "It's a safeguard." 

We made our way to the house. Lucien opened the door before we reached it, and something small and brown barrelled past him, trilling excitedly. I crouched down to greet Swivet, who stood on his hind legs snuffling at my face and trying to get me to pick him up. 

"You really are too big for this, you know," I told him. 

He squeaked imperiously, so with a grunt of effort I picked him up. If a nug can be said to smile, he was grinning from ear to ear. 

Fadik said to Dorian with a bemused shake of her head, "I honestly didn't know whether to believe him about the nug." 

We trouped through the door, where Lucien and Ferox greeted us with a trifle more decorum, though the cat insisted Dorian pick him up too. "Where's Danae?" I asked. 

"I believe she's on her way. She was in her workshop," Lucien said. "Welcome home, Domini. And welcome to your friend as well." 

We introduced Fadik and requested refreshments then made our way to the gaming room. Danae was already there, just shrugging out of the leather apron she wore when she was working on her bigger silver pieces. In short order we'd gotten seated (Swivet insisted on parking himself on my lap) and served our refreshments of choice. 

I'm not sure who was more interested once introductions were made — Danae, who'd never met a Qunari before, or Fadik, to whom siblings were still a novel concept. The Qun doesn't do family at all, so she had no clear idea how that sort of thing works. 

I caught Fadik glancing back and forth between us repeatedly; she admitted later she'd been searching for family resemblances. Problem was, Danae and I don't look much alike — she takes after Father's side, and I take after Mother's. Lucky for her, since the Trevelyans are much prettier people, but I think Fadik was a little disappointed. 

We told Danae an edited version of our adventures in Madauros (I think I may have bored everyone singing the praises of its architecture), and she gave us a detailed recounting of the invasion and eventual ejection of Dorian's ex Arrun and his no account friends. Considering my sister inherited the family's ability to tell a good story, her tale was probably much more engaging and humorous than the actual experience. 

Poor Dorian apologized profusely, even though he'd had no idea the lout was going to invite himself to move in. We all made a point of fussing over Swivet, who did indeed have a small, triangular wedge cut out of his left ear. It made him look quite roguish, and I told him so. 

Fadik then told a few stories from the time she and Cam and I had worked together, and answered Danae's questions about growing up in the Qun. We played a few games of cards, drank a little more than we probably should have and all in all had a very nice homecoming. I think all the sleeping I'd done on the trip back helped, because for the first time in many days, I felt entirely myself again. It was a relief — I'd been worried I'd suffered some permanent damage this time. 

We convinced Fadik to stay a few extra days, showing her around the estate then making the trek into Qarinus city for entertainment and shopping (the latter mainly indulged in by Dorian and my sister). The only downside to the trip was the open hostility Fadik was met with, though making out that she was a bodyguard for The Magister defused much of it. 

Fadik assured us she was neither surprised nor offended. She was well aware of the history her people had with Tevinter, and the way tensions had been ramping up again lately, she opined the people of Qarinus were showing considerable restraint. 

"It does make me feel I'd best not wear out my welcome, though," she added. "Much as I like you and your estate, I'd feel much more comfortable in the Marches right now." 

We couldn't blame her. Just in the time we'd been in Madauros, there had been three deadly clashes with Qunari in separate areas of Tevinter that were public knowledge. How many more unpleasantries were going on behind the scenes we could only imagine, but it wasn't a good time to be a Qunari in Tevinter. 

I would have liked to introduce her to Maevaris, but Mae was in Minrathous doing something magisterial so we had to forego that pleasure. Instead we did a lot of nothing but relax, eat, drink and play cards and board games. After everything she'd been through lately, I think Fadik enjoyed it. I know I sorely needed that break. 

The trip through the eluvian turned into something of a production. First Danae insisted on coming and then, when he saw us packing again, Swivet threw a minor fit. I decided to take him this time. He'd made the trip before (more successfully than I the first time) and Hasmal had been his first home. At least Ferox showed no interest in joining us. Four horses and a saddlebag full of excited nug was enough. 

For all that, the journey was mostly uneventful. Once, two of the spider-like denizens of the in-between land of the eluvians hove into view. They stopped short when they saw (or sensed?) our party, hissed like a couple of angrily deflating balloons and scuttled away. Part of me wanted to pursue and kill them, but I resisted the urge. If I'd been on my own, I admit I might have. 

_=#=_

As always when we arrived in Hasmal, the first order of business was to get the horses out of the house. Once we'd dealt with that, we went back inside in a more orderly fashion. Well, all of us except Swivet, who nearly got himself squashed in his mad rush to be first through the door. Once inside, he trilled excitedly and ran about trying to sniff every square inch of the house at once. 

It was late evening and there was no one there.  I activated the lights and took a moment to 'ding' Sera's place to let them know we'd arrived safely.  While Dorian and Fadik waited for people to show up at the house, Danae and I took the horses up to the stables.  We dropped them off and walked back to my house, enjoying the milder heat of Hasmal in summer. 

"This is nice," Danae said. "Do you realize I've barely seen you since I came to visit?" 

"That's exaggerating a little, don't you think?" 

"Not really. You were away in Maduras for a long time just now." 

"Madauros," I said with a faint smile. 

"I was close." She was staring at me intently, and had been practically from the moment we left the stables. 

I said, "What?"

She said, “Huh?”

“You’re staring at me. Why?” 

She chewed her lower lip. "Don't get annoyed, but…are you okay, Kai?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"It's just…I thought at first maybe I was imagining it, but you look like you've lost weight.  In an _I've been sick_ kind of way." 

I sighed. " _Venhedis._ It's that obvious?" 

"Well…" 

"Some shite happened that took me out for a few days, but I'm all right now. I promise," I said. 

"You're sure? You're not just saying that not to worry me?" 

"Ask Dorian." 

She nodded and said, "Wow.  Seems like you can't go anywhere without something happening to you." 

"That's not fair. Nothing ever happens in Hasmal." 

"But stuff did happen to you here." 

"Danae," I said darkly. 

"Just please don't go getting yourself killed right when I'm finally getting to know you," she said plaintively. "I just _care,_ for Andraste's sake." 

"I — Thank you, Danae." I gave her a sardonic smile. "I'm trying very hard to not get myself killed." 

She gave me a little smile back. "Well, try harder. Maybe add things like maiming to the list of things you're not to allow. You're supposed to _gain_ weight on holidays." 

I snorted. "That was no holiday." 

"But you still won't say what it was?" 

"Nope." 

We entered my house to find Cam and Sera had arrived and the fireworks had already started. 

"— supposed to be your bloody _partner_ , Fadik!" Cam was saying as he paced around my living room. "What would you have done if Kai and Dorian hadn't shown up? That's why you don't bugger off on your own!" 

"I was not on my own," Fadik said, expression stormy. 

"No, you were with some wanker you even _said_ you didn't trust and some arsehole mate of his you didn't even know!  They bloody talked you into leaving your _weapon_ , for fucks sake." 

"I didn't say it was the best decision I ever made." 

He stopped in front of her, hands on his hips as he proclaimed, "Yeah, and maybe if you'd talked to the _elf_ first you wouldn't've _made_ such a daft decision!" 

I sat next to Dorian on the couch. 

"Does he know how cute he looks standing like that?" Dorian said, snickering quietly. 

"Presumably not," I replied. He did look adorable. 

Fadik was grinning. "Camren, when you stand like that you look like a lawn ornament." 

He gave her a death look and changed his stance, folding his arms across his chest. Somehow his spiky auburn hair seemed redder and spikier, the scar on his left cheek standing out brightly as he glared. "Frightfully fucking funny, Fadik. You could at least admit you should have talked to me." 

She gave him a sketchy little bow and smiled. "I admit it, Cam. I knew he was bad news and I should have told you what I was doing. Thank you for trying to help me even though I left you out." 

He nodded stiffly. "You're welcome. I'm just glad you made it back, though this little adventure of yours cost us some serious summer coin." 

"It won't happen again," Fadik said. 

"Good.  Then you and me have some things to talk about tomorrow." And just like that his good humour was restored. 

“Wait’ll you see her new sword,” I said. Much as she complained about it, she’d kept the big blade. 

Now that the crisis was over, I introduced Danae to Sera and Cam. In quick succession, Fadik suggested we either go somewhere that involved alcohol or bring some in, Swivet diverted from his olfactory journey of the house long enough to give us an informative squeak and Dorian suggested we fetch Mikal. I agreed with Fadik and Dorian, and gave my nug an encouraging pat on the head. In the course of his explorations he'd acquired a comical dust moustache, which I imagined was going to make him sneeze any second. 

That night and the next went much as you might expect, as we showed Danae around Hasmal and visited all our friends. Dorian and I had the house to ourselves the second night as both Danae and Fadik opted to stay at a nearby inn, and though we didn't do anything special, we enjoyed the respite from being sociable. 

A blow-by-blow recounting of our visit would be pointless — and probably a little dull, since nothing out of the ordinary happened — so I'll just touch on the important bits. Cam had found a good-sized flat in the northwest district and had little difficulty convincing Fadik that it would make a perfect office/living space for them to operate from. I was pleased about that, because it meant most of the people I gave a damn about seeing in southern Thedas (aside from my family and one Ostwick friend) were now in Hasmal. 

Dagna and Ademar gave my arm a thorough going-over and pronounced it in perfect shape. She hadn't been able to make any further progress on refining its ability to feel things, but I assured her I was very happy with what she had been able to accomplish. At their behest, I talked to a local woman — a former soldier with an injury similar to mine — that was thinking of hiring Ademar and Dagna, and I'm fairly confident I convinced her it was well worth the coin. 

One person we didn't see was Sivra, the former slave we'd freed. She was still in Hasmal, having gotten a job at a local tailor's, but Sera said they rarely saw her. 

"I think Cam and me are too much for her—too shouty and in your face," she said with a wide grin. "She likes Widdle, and they get together once in a while, but that's about it." 

"It's not personal," Dagna explained. "She's just trying to figure out her place in the world and get over everything. She's grateful to you and Dorian, but you remind her too much of what happened to her. She'll be okay; she just needs some time."

We understood, and told Dagna to pass along our good wishes. 

Dorian and I pestered Mikal, insisting she needed to come visit us. She said she'd think about it. 

Danae announced she should be allowed to use my house whenever she wanted to visit Hasmal, as she'd had no idea the city was so nice and wanted to spend more time there. I said as long as Dorian and I weren't using it, and she didn't act like her usual slobbish self, that could be arranged. 

I bought Swivet a new stuffed cat at the same place I'd gotten his first one. The original was barely recognizable any more, he'd played with it so much. 

By the afternoon of the third day, we'd said all our goodbyes and departed through our eluvian, arriving back in Qarinus shortly after midnight. All in all, the trip had turned out to be a nice mini-holiday that Dorian and I had sorely needed.


	85. Interlude (13)

Can a thing that never was before have memory? Perhaps not in the normal sense, but as the thing in the reflecting pool continued to _become_ , old things seeped in along with the new. The Pavus estate had been in the hands of mages and magisters for countless years, and not all of them had been kind and decent people. There were old horrors in the very soil of the estate, some closer to the surface than others. The old, old magic that formed the nexus of the thing in the pool called to them. Remnants and forgotten slivers of time and magics past flowed and crept up from unthinkable depths (and not all those depths were tied to the earth), combining into something new as they reached the reflecting pool. 

Though it had no thought, it _remembered_. Fragmented impressions of power, of control, of manipulating the very fabric of reality combined, broke apart, re-formed into new patterns. Some dissipated, but some remained, becoming part of the fabric of the new thing that was forming. 

Can a thing that never was before have desire? 

_Oh, yes_. 


	86. Part 10: Qarinus / Section 1 - Coming Home

**_You've Got Mail_**

It was another beautiful summer day in Qarinus. For once, I am not being at all sarcastic saying that — the temperature had dropped out of the sweltering range into something warm and pleasant. We were on the back patio. I was writing a recommendation for Ademar and Dagna's burgeoning business in high-end prosthetics while Dorian made his way through a sheaf of reports Mae had sent from Minrathous. _In the Magisterium one does not simply return to work,_ he'd informed me. Some of the magisters had been busily plotting all manner of underhanded nastinesses from the moment the summer hiatus had begun, and you ignored that at your own peril. 

Danae emerged yawningly from the house, a mug of coffee gripped in her right hand. She set down the mug and thudded into a chair, obliging Swivet when he pushed his head under her hand for a pat. 

Dorian looked over at her and smiled crookedly. "You know, I think I've just hit upon a brilliant name for a pub — the Mug and Nug." 

She gave him a bleary look. "Too early, sweetie. Talk to me after I've coffeed." 

I'm not sure when she started calling him things like that, but at least it suggested she liked him. 

I said, "I take it you got home late?" 

She just grunted. At some point while we were in Madauros, she started going into the city regularly. She hadn't said, but I suspected she'd met someone. 

Lucien came out with a handful of mail. Dorian received the bulk of it and looked none too thrilled, as it was mostly from Minrathous and mostly political in nature, except for the ones that were outright begging for favours. I got a thick envelope from Ostwick and a slimmer one from Orlais. Surprisingly, Danae got something too. 

Even though I was sure it would aggravate me, I opened the envelope from Orlais first. When I read the contents, I blinked in disbelief and had to re-read them to be sure. 

"Dorian, you're not going to believe this." 

He looked up from a closely-written report he’d been at for the better part of an hour. "Given that it appears to hail from Orlais, I cannot wait to hear the latest outrage." 

"It's a bank draft." 

He set the papers down. "No. I've heard no cataclysmic sound indicating the world is ending, so that's patently impossible. At least tell me it's for three coppers with a 'postage due' note attached." 

I shook my head. "It's for nearly the full amount I requested." 

"And this is the part where Lucien walks back out and he's mysteriously turned into a Qunari cleric." 

"I know." I grinned. "This cannot possibly be the same universe the Chantry accountants I've been fighting with occupy." 

"You didn't try complaining to Cassandra again?" 

"I gave that up months ago." I passed the bank draft over to him. 

"Well, colour me amazed, shocked and a tiny bit nervous. If that can happen, then anything is possible. It's even drawn on a legitimate merchant bank." 

"Cash it quick before they change their minds," Danae advised. 

"Don't worry, that was my thought exactly. Anyone else up for a trip into town today?" 

Everyone was, once we finished going through the mail, and Dorian had to wade through the rest of the report he was reading. I opened the package from Ostwick, which contained an astounding three letters. (It may not sound astounding, but it was the most mail I'd ever received from Ostwick at one time.) 

The first one was from Oliver Caudill, my dear friend and former First Enchanter. It was a long, enjoyably chatty missive that ended with his admonishing me if I didn't come for a visit soon, he was going to " _invade your corner of Tevinter and make a thorough nuisance of myself lounging about your house making unreasonable demands of the servants and embarrassing you in public with my southern lack of sophistication._ " 

I hoped he'd follow through on that threat—I'd enjoy it much more than a trip to Ostwick, and I was dying for Dorian to meet him. 

The second, slimmest letter had no return address and I didn't recognize the handwriting. I opened it with some trepidation, wondering if it was going to unleash some sort of killer spell on me or just try to sell me something. All I found was one sheet of paper, covered with neat handwriting. 

_Dear Kai,_ (it read)  
_I don't even know if I should be writing this to you, or if you'll want to take a moment to read it, but I couldn't let things rest as they have been all these years. I'm sure you remember me — this is Moss Lindner — because most of us remember people that did us injustices._

_Yes, you read that right. It took me some time (or should I say a long time), but I want to apologise to you.  While we were together, you were never anything but decent and charming to me. I had no idea you were a mage and it came as a shock that you are. Of course, you wouldn't — and shouldn’t — know or care about my feelings since I'd already burned my bridges with you before I knew there were any._

_I admit when you told me and left, I felt betrayed and…..soiled. That sounds terrible, but my prejudices were deeply held if not deeply thought out._

_You can imagine my surprise when I realized you were this Inquisitor everyone was talking about. And from all that I heard, you were continuing to be just as decent as you were when I knew you. It confused me, because I'd always known that if a mage was given the kind of power you had, they would turn into a monster. You didn't, and then just to confound me further, you broke up the Inquisition and walked away from all that power._

_Well, I don't want to bore you if you're even still reading this. Just, over the years I've met more mages as you're not all locked up in circles any more and I'm still uncomfortable with ~~them~~ ~~you~~ it, but I've had to admit I was mostly wrong when making blanket statements. I can only imagine what you thought when I was saying those things._

_So I don't blame you if you hate me after the hateful things I said about mages, but I just wanted you to know I'm sorry. The man I'm with now thought I should tell you that. He's much more sensible and open-minded than I am, so for what it's worth I would be pleased if you would consider me, if not a friend, at least an acquaintance that is slow but able to learn._

_Thank you for reading this if you have gotten this far and I hope you are having a good life,_  
_Moss Lindner_

I set the letter down on the table. Suddenly I really wanted a beer. 

"What did it say, amatus? You look like you just got punched in the head," Dorian said, taking advantage of my obvious discomfiture to set aside his papers again. 

"You'll never guess who it's from." 

"Chances are I won't, so you may as well tell me," he said pleasantly. 

"Moss fucking Lindner." I shook my head slowly, still not quite able to believe it. 

"From your dream?" Dorian's eyes widened slightly. 

I barked something resembling a laugh. "The real one, fortunately. He wrote to _apologise_. But the point is, after all this time he just coincidentally chooses _now_? I find that a little worrisome." 

"Apologise for what?" Danae asked. 

"We dated for a while years ago when I was living in Ostwick. He didn't know I was a mage. Everything was fine until one day he told me what he thought of mages. Phrases like _a disease_ and _should be killed in the womb_ figured greatly. So I told him I am a mage and walked out on him." 

"That's _terrible_ ," she said, eyes wide and shocked. 

I shrugged. "It was a surprise, and it made me angry, but it's not like we were in love with each other or anything. At this point I'm more surprised that he was bothered enough to write me. He said a new boyfriend put him up to it, but still..." 

Dorian said, "I do hope _he_ won't decide to show up on our doorstep next." 

"It's more likely the Archon will pop by for a night of drinks and Wicked Grace," I said.

“He probably will now,” Dorian predicted. 

"Are you going to write back to him?" Danae asked. 

"Why? I have nothing to say to him." 

"I dunno. Tell him apology accepted? Or to go fuck himself?" She smirked. 

"I doubt he actually wants to hear from me." I wondered if the thing that wore his face in my dream would disappear now. 

"Let sleeping dogs lie?" Dorian said, turning his attention back to his report. 

I made a noise of agreement and went on to the last envelope. "This one's from my parents." 

" _Our_ parents," Danae corrected. 

"Sorry. Now, that's different. Father's put a letter in." 

Danae sat up straighter. "Really? He _never_ writes." 

I read his neat printing. "Oh, fuck me. Andraste's _balls_." 

"Are they disinheriting the both of you?" Dorian asked. 

"No. They're _coming_ here. For a visit." 

" _Here_ here?" Danae yelped. 

"And bravo," Dorian added. 

"Yes." I kept reading. 

"Father too?" 

"It seems to be the day for people to change their minds about long-held convictions." 

"Or at least the day you get letters about it," Dorian amended. "When are they planning on descending upon us?" 

"Before you have to go back to Minrathous," I said. "Mother wanted to come for my birthday, but Father draws the line at going anywhere past Qarinus." 

"Somehow that's reassuring," Danae said. 

"I predict that your mother will want to celebrate your birthday regardless," Dorian said with a smirk. "After all, it's a more momentous one than usual." 

I snorted. "Momentous my arse. But you're right — she'll want to. She missed all the other so-called momentous ones." 

"They'll probably want to drag me back with them," Danae said glumly. 

"So you're a grown woman. Tell them no if you truly object to it," I said. Father's letter was short and businesslike. Mother had put one in too that was far more informative and chatty.  
  
"Well…I guess I really don’t. They're not getting any younger and someone's got to take over for them and make some new little Trevelyans, and I don't think that someone's going to be you," she said. 

"You've got someone in mind for Trevelyan construction? Or are you going to let them choose for you?" 

"You're just being nosy," she said. 

"You _have_ been spending a lot of time in town lately," Dorian said. "One does begin to put two and two together. Of course, I don't know that your parents would be thrilled if that was your particular kink." 

"Well, it's none of your business what I do in town. I could just be setting up outlets to sell my silverwork, you know." 

"Which is why you come dragging home at all hours of the morning smelling of alcohol and washing-up and defiant guilt?" 

"Excuse me? How do you smell of defiant guilt?" 

"The washing-up never quite manages to cover everything." 

"If not the book, Dorian at least wrote a very informative pamphlet on defiant guilt," I said. 

"It was far more scintillating than your brother's treatise on resentful compliance," he added. 

"I was a victim of delayed scintillation," I mourned. 

"Do you think they'd be upset if I _did_ bring someone from Tevinter back to help fulfill the new Trevelyans requirement?" she said with an optimism born of blind hope. 

"So there is someone." Dorian smiled in triumph. "There would undoubtedly be a scandal, I'd think." 

"Undoubtedly," I agreed. "Is he a mage too?" 

"Honestly, Kai, not everyone here is a mage," Danae said. "In fact, most people aren't." 

"Then what is he? Is he human?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. Even I know better than to broach the idea of bringing a non-human into the family." 

"So what is he?" I repeated. 

"Why do you care?" 

I glared at her. "Aside from the fact that you're my sister? I'm curious. And they're coming here—I want to know what size explosion to expect." 

She took a sip of her coffee and gave me a funny little smile. "He's an undertaker." 

Dorian burst out laughing. "Honestly? Wherever did you meet an undertaker?" 

"At that _Active Art_ exhibit they've got at the main gallery." 

"Is that the one where all the pieces move in some way? I still need to see that. I suppose an undertaker _would_ like to see things that move after a hard day at work." 

"You are awful," she declared then turned a sharp glare on me. "And don't _you_ start." 

"I haven't said a word," I protested. 

"You're going to. I can _feel_ it." 

"Which is more than you can say for his clients," I obliged her. 

She made a disgusted noise. "See? This is why I didn't tell you two I was seeing anyone. So how upset do you think Mother and Father'll be?" 

"You know them better than I do," I said. 

"He does know how to manage things, I imagine," Dorian said. "I assume much of the job is dealing with the bereaved and making arrangements?" 

"Yes! How did you know that? Most people just make jokes." 

"I had occasion to use the services of an undertaker a few years ago." 

She blanched slightly. "Oh. Right. Your father. I'm sorry, sweetie." 

"When did he become 'sweetie'?" I said. " _I_ don't even call him that." 

"You'd sound silly calling him that," she said with a grin. "I don't know. It just happened." 

"I _am_ very sweet," Dorian added. 

"Yes, you are." I shot him an arch look. "Parental explosions aside for the moment, who's the letter from, Danae?" 

"Let— oh! I forgot about it." Danae opened her envelope and, as she read, started to scowl. She stuffed the letter back in its envelope and jammed the whole thing into a pocket. "It's nothing." 

"Someone went to quite a bit of trouble to send you nothing," Dorian said. 

"It's just a mistake I made back in Antiva." 

I raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said that was over with." 

"It is." 

"But they managed to send you a letter here. That would suggest they don't share your opinion that it's over." 

"Sometimes people even show up on your doorstep," Dorian said. "Next thing you know they're eating all your food and attacking your nug." 

"It won't be a problem, don't worry," she said, the same stubborn little line appearing between her eyebrows that our father got when he was angry. 

"Does this non-problem have a name and description?" 

" _En_ zo." She spat it like a curse. "He's very pretty in that kind of big-nosed Antivan way. Long, dark hair, brown eyes, a little shorter and stockier than either of you. He likes the colour blue and wearing artists' tunics even though he has no artistic talent whatsoever. He plays the mandolin passably well." 

"No additional talent with blades, bows or poisons that we should be aware of?" 

"If he has any, I've never seen it." 

"If you don't mind, I shall tell Lucien to alert the staff to keep an eye out just in case. We don't need him showing up to make some grand gesture of his undying love for you that will result in stains on the patio." 

She smiled. "All right, when you put it that way. Maker, why can't men just let things _go_?" 

Dorian and I looked at each other, then back at her. 

Danae flushed. "Um. I meant normal men." 

"Ah, _normal_. I see," I said. 

"Um, not that you're not _normal_." 

"I for one am perfectly happy that you don't consider me normal. It's clear I'm extraordinary in every way," Dorian drawled. 

"So what am I? Chopped liver?" I demanded. 

"Ask _her_ ; she's the one who said you're not normal," he said. 

"I didn't mean it that way," Danae protested, now blushing furiously. "I meant, like, men with _women._ You know." 

"You're the one who said it." I sniffed. "It's very hurtful, knowing you feel that way." 

_"Kai…"_ She looked like she might actually burst into tears. 

I decided to let her off the hook. "Don't worry, I'm just busting your balls a little. We're not offended. Much." 

"Well, I am sorry." She both appeared and sounded sincere. "That came out all wrong. I don't think you're _ab_ normal, it's just not as usual." 

“Granted,” Dorian said. “It does add an extra layer of fascination to our mystique.” 

Danae grinned. "I found out about Kai’s preferences over dinner one night—" She turned her attention to me. “—when you were still living in Ostwick. I don't even remember how it came up. I think I must have said something about had you met any girls because they'd just visited you. Father just said, 'Turns out Kai's like your Uncle Oswin,' and Mother said she didn't think you'd met anyone regardless, and that was the end of it." 

"Seems rather anticlimactic," said Dorian. 

"They both like Oswin more than the rest of her family combined, and for good reason," Danae said. 

"I know what visit that was," I said. "It was the one where Mother told me her brilliant idea that I might want to look into becoming Tranquil." 

"Yeah, your being a mage was already way more not-normal than you liking men," Danae said, her good humour restored. 

"So no matter what I'm the black sheep of the family." 

She smirked. "No one brought up your taste in clothing.” 

"When did this become about me and not your crazy ex-boyfriend?" 

"Did _he_ know to find you here or was that letter forwarded?" Dorian asked. 

"Shite." Danae looked at the envelope. "It looks like he knew. Who bloody told him? I told _everyone_ who knew where I was going not to let him know." 

"Next you'll be telling us he's an Antivan Crow, right?" Dorian said. 

"No, he sells shoes," she said, rolling her eyes. 

"Then he shouldn't be able to afford to come here," I said. "We should worry more about Mother and Father." 

Not only would this be the first time they'd set foot in Tevinter, but it would be the first time they'd met Dorian. Therefore I was convinced _somehow_ something was destined to go terribly wrong.


	87. Reunion With Kaeso

The following fortnight or so was busy without being particularly exciting. We'd half expected Dorian would get another summons from the Archon after our Madauros adventure, but all we got was a letter. It was delivered by a special courier who required Dorian to sign for it before handing it over. The inner envelope was embossed with a pattern of dragons and staves in exquisite gold leaf. The Archon's own seal closed it, and it was magically keyed to Dorian only. We went into his study where we wouldn’t be disturbed. 

He opened it to find a single sheet of fine vellum. On it was written, in a clear but spidery hand, _Well done. Kai Trevelyan has been granted provisionary citizenship for his continuing contribution to Tevinter. Will be in touch._

"I don't think I'll mention this to my father while they're here," I said. 

"You don't think his heart will swell with pride?" Dorian grinned. 

"More likely something else would explode. Messily." 

"He would use vellum," Dorian continued with a slight frown. "Watch me have nightmares tonight." 

"I'll wake you if I notice," I promised. A year ago someone had done something terrible to Dorian, and he'd also used vellum in his correspondence. It was one of those weird reminders of past horrors that can sometimes hit you out of the blue. 

He snorted. "Kai, you could sleep through a rampaging herd of druffalo being chased by howling rage demons." 

"I would notice if you were upset." 

"Not entirely accurate, but I appreciate the sentiment," he said with a smile then raised his eyebrows at me. “So! Provisionary citizen! How do you feel about that?”

I considered for a few moments. “I’m…both pleased and worried. I’m pleased because, for better or worse, I do feel this is home now. Moreso than the Marches was. Worried because what else does he have planned for us? It’s the same question and the same reservations I’ve had since we entered into this agreement, you know?”

“I do indeed,” Dorian said gravely. “But you don’t mind being a provisional Vint?”

I chuckled. “I not only don’t mind, I’m perfectly happy with it. Honestly.” 

He crossed the few steps from his chair to mine, bent down and gave me a kiss. “Good,” he said as he resumed his seat. “I can’t imagine why after this long, but I still keep doubting that you’d want to go so far as to become a citizen.”

“Well, _you_ are. You’re also the one who first convinced me Tevinter must have some redeeming qualities. Now that I’ve lived here a while, I understand why you love it despite its problems. If I can help more or gain legitimacy in the eyes of your arrogant-arsed countrymen as a citizen, all the better.”

“You do know to some of them you’ll always be a barbarian,” he said teasingly.

“And you’ll always be the mad, troublemaking embarrassment of House Pavus. Nothing we can do about that, so we may as well not concern ourselves with them beyond using due caution.”

“Speaking of due caution—”

I grinned. “Someday we can tell Father.”

“Via sending crystal, or perhaps an arthritic raven.” He stroked the patch of hair under his lip, appearing deep in thought for a moment. "Do you think I should grow my hair out?" 

I had to smile at his sudden change in subject. "Well, that’s a serious consideration. Why?" 

"I think it's time for a different look. Something to set the Magisterium abuzz when I return. It doesn't do to appear stodgy or predictable." 

"I think you should do whatever you like, since I'm sure you'll look stunning. _After_ my parents visit." 

"Why after? They've never met me, so how would they know that I've adjusted my look?" 

"Well, when one's hair grows out it goes through stages where one tends to look…stupid, because it's on its way from being one thing to another. I'd hate for them to meet you when you're in a bad hair stage." 

"I do not have bad hair stages," he said with what appeared to be earnest conviction. 

"Bollocks. You call them something different is all. What are they?" 

"Transitional stages." He made a show of examining his fingernails. "They can be challenging, I admit, but I always prevail." 

"Fine." I sighed. "But I wish you'd wait." 

I admit it — I was getting anxious about their impending visit. I couldn't help it. Danae was fretting also because she was convinced she'd get an ultimatum about returning to Ostwick, which would mean leaving her undertaker. I just wanted everything to be perfect. 

We went into the city more than once. The first time, I wanted to redeem that bank draft from Orlais before they could change their minds, Danae wanted to see her mysterious undertaker, and Dorian had business to conduct with his own bank. The second was to meet Maevaris on her return from Minrathous. That one turned into a two-day celebration that left even me hung over. 

The third visit was to meet Kaeso. 

At Mae's grinning suggestion we'd set up the meeting at a private patio along a promenade down by the waterfront. It was one of those places where the wealthy families of Qarinus went on nice days to ensure they were seen strolling or paddling small, white boats by members of other wealthy families. No one would think twice about a Magister having a private meeting there where everyone could see he was doing something _important_ , and knowing Kaeso’s opinion of his Altus relatives, he'd find the entire experience annoying. 

It was a bright, sunny afternoon. Dorian was dressed in some sort of white linen thing that managed to be form-fitting and diaphanous at the same time and apparently allowed cool breezes to waft through it whenever he moved. I honestly couldn't quite fathom how to put it on, not that I'd ever wear such a thing. 

I'd conceded to the weather in that I was wearing a sleeveless black shirt that also allowed breezes to waft through it when there were breezes about to waft. I'd even worn shoes rather than boots. 

A servant from the nearby clubhouse (naturally there was a clubhouse) showed us to our patio. Its floor was spelled to look like a thick sheet of glass suspended over a pool of deep water. A very pretty effect, though I knew a few people who'd have fits if they had to sit there. Once in a while, if you were watching, you could even see fish or more exotic marine life glide past under your feet. The table was spindly-looking wrought iron, the chairs more substantial. At least they'd cushioned them. 

The servant said once we were all there, we could either use our own privacy spells or for our convenience (read: wealthy soporati and mages who were no good at that magical discipline) we could trigger the privacy spells they provided, which were guaranteed to have no back door through which the staff or spell-crafter could listen. We ordered drinks (beer for me, something called a Dragon's Tooth for Dorian) and waited for Kaeso. 

He arrived shortly after our second drinks, grey eyes hidden behind small, dark-tinted spectacles. He dropped gracefully into his seat, gave the steward his order and turned an amused smirk on us. "This place is so incredibly full of itself it's a wonder it doesn't spontaneously detonate. Reminds me of summer afternoons with the family when I was a mere stripling who still had the potential to marshal all the power of the Archon himself." 

So much for his being discomfited. 

"You seem uncommonly cheerful," I said. 

"Perhaps I'm just delighted at seeing you in such a state of undress. Are those _shoes_ I see?" 

"They're my concession to summer." 

He lifted the tinted spectacles and scanned Dorian from head to foot. "Are you wearing a _sail_ , Dorian? I know one is supposed to strive for nautical themes at this club, but really." 

"It's a cool, playful take on summerwear from times past," Dorian said, unruffled. "It evokes emotion, and happens to be magically enhanced to caress the wearer in soft breezes with every movement." 

"So you're wearing a sail that comes with its own weather system?" 

I tried, but couldn't quite hold back a snort of laughter. 

"I wouldn't expect either one of you to appreciate the subtleties of this ensemble," Dorian said, giving me an extra glare. 

"What if the weather cools unexpectedly? Can you turn the soft breezes off?" Kaeso said with wide-eyed guilelessness. 

"I shall not deign to answer that. You are clearly operating from a place of pedestrian tastelessness and only ask that you may mock your aesthetic betters." 

"I am merely _curious_ , Dorian," Kaeso protested. "What if I wanted my own wearable sail?" 

"How was the trip here?" I asked Kaeso—a deliberate subject change. 

"The boat was unspeakably dull, but things picked up once we landed." 

"Docked," Dorian corrected. "You dock a boat." 

"Well this one started taking on water, so they _docked_ it at Carastes and I rode overland from there." 

I raised an eyebrow. "And that was an improvement?" 

The steward brought Kaeso's drink and promised to come back with refreshers for us. 

Kaeso took a sip and smiled faintly. "Not right away. It was just me, a driver, and an outrider who would have been hard pressed to scare off a curious fennec. Dreary dreary dreary. Then we got set upon by brigands!" His smile was wide and delighted. 

"That was a good thing?" 

"Well, not for the driver and the outrider. While they were fighting the brigands, I slipped out of the coach." 

"They didn't have someone watching for that?" Dorian said. 

"Of course they did. It only took a few minutes to kill that one. She wasn't expecting someone with knives and the ability to use them. I'll give her credit for putting up a spirited fight. But that's not the _fun_ part." 

"The fun part," I echoed flatly. 

"Now, before you start getting all uppity at me, just you remember these were brigands. They disembowelled the outrider and left him to die screaming and crying while he tried to stuff his own guts back in." 

"Not that you did anything to stop that." 

"One must wait for one's moment. There were too many of them. Had I stepped in at that point it might have been _my_ entrails festooning the landscape. I am not that much of an altruist." 

"So when does it get good?" 

"Well!” Kaeso settled back in his chair with a reminiscent smile. “The driver turned out to be much tougher than I expected and managed to kill two of them and mortally wound a third before he was killed himself. While he kept them distracted I was able to get behind one of them and hamstring him — and let me tell you, that is no easy thing. Of course, once you get the first leg done it's not so bad, since they tend to hit the ground, but you do have to deal with them trying to fight back. Anyway, once that fellow was dealt with, I was fortunate enough to be able to knock the last one out." 

"Why do I get the feeling you didn't just tie them up and contact the authorities?" 

"Because you know me too well," Kaeso said with a gracious incline of his head. He waited while the steward gave us new drinks. "You should probably invoke a privacy shield, you know. We don't want anyone listening in, do we?" 

"I'm expecting the answer is _no_ ," Dorian said as he cast the spell. "So if I recall correctly, we left your story with three brigands dead, one mortally wounded so possibly alive, one crippled and one unconscious, and you remarkably unscathed." 

"It's so nice to know one's audience is paying attention. The wounded one bled out while I was busy and the one I hamstrung wasn't going anywhere, so I just concerned myself with my little intact prize. _Him_ I tied up once I removed his weapons and clothes. Big, ugly git he was. I'm sure the only sex he ever got was through paying unfortunate women to endure the very few minutes it undoubtedly took. Now, considering the position he was in, would you believe he _threatened_ me when he returned to the land of the conscious?" 

"In some circles that's known as defiant bravery," I said. 

"It was annoying. I didn't mind the crippled fellow's whimpering, but on top of being unattractive, this one was clearly dumb as a bag of dead nugs. Even when he resorted to name-calling, it was dull and unimaginative. It was making the idea of torturing him rather unappealing. Would you believe I was honestly considering just doing to him what he'd done to the outrider and leaving him there?" 

"The very _idea,_ " Dorian said in appropriately aghast tones. 

"I know! But then my annoyance made me think of something that made it all worthwhile." He finished his first drink and gave us a little celebratory toast with his second. "You know, while it's possible, it really isn't practical to rip someone's face off. There's connective tissue and it's messy. Takes far more brute strength than you'd think. _But_. If you apply a sharp knife correctly you can very nearly _peel_ a person's face off. I found that out. Did it to Ser Mouthy and hung his face up in front of him where he could see it. There was a great deal of blood at first, of course, but not enough to kill him. You cauterize just a few spots and bleeding out becomes a non-issue. It seems it's the eyes that give one the most distress. They dry out when you have no eyelids to blink. I could see the muscles twitching as they tried, but there was nothing there. That's what got him screaming." He gave us a cheery smile. 

"Kaeso, is there a reason you're telling us this?" I asked. 

"I wanted to share my happiness. Also, I've just given you valuable information. Unfortunately, it didn't take him long to pass out. Probably the pain of his eyes baking, though the rest couldn't have been too comfortable either. I must admit losing his face didn't help his looks any. I woke him up a few times, though it was a little tricky to tell when he _wasn't_ awake what with the lack of eyelids. Splashing water on him worked wonders." 

"How is this valuable information?" 

"What if you needed to remove someone's face? Plus as a torture tactic I thought it rather original. People are always on about mutilating genitalia or beating and crushing body parts, but to literally lose face? You know, if you kept them hydrated, they could probably be kept alive for quite some time." He snickered. "Imagine that, sitting there looking at your own face looking back at you." 

"Kaeso, we don't torture people." 

He blinked. "You might. You never know what the future might bring." 

Dorian said, "We're mages. We have other ways of torturing people if we so desire." 

Kaeso frowned. "If I'd known you were going to be so utterly unappreciative I would have kept it to myself. One day you might be thanking the gods that you have me in your employ." 

"We already do, Kaeso," Dorian assured him. "I can't think of another heartless murderer I'd rather associate with." 

He brightened immediately. "As long as I'm appreciated.”  
  
"Wait," I said. "I'm probably going to hate myself for asking, but what did you do with them?" 

It was the real, blank-eyed Kaeso who looked back at me. "Are you sure you want to know, Kai? Even my happy little discovery made you both slightly squeamish. Let's just say as far as the cripple goes, one can learn a great deal about how human anatomy works when one has time and a living subject. My faceless friend I simply left in place so he could contemplate his unlovely former visage until Lady Death chose to collect him." 

I knew I shouldn't have asked. 

“Well, after that I was still stuck in the middle of nowhere, so I had to take the horses and _ride_ all the way to the next town.”

“You didn’t take the coach?” I asked.

Kaeso gave me an incredulous look. “Kai. What would I know about driving a coach? If I must get dusty, I’d rather cut a dashing figure on horseback than be seen as some lumpish commoner searching for clientele to fill his conveyance.”

“How daft of me to ask,” I said drily.

“So did you deliver the object?” Dorian asked.

“Must you look so disapproving, Dorian? Kai doesn’t look disapproving.”

“Kai would also like to know if you delivered it,” I said.

“Once I rested up from our little adventure, yes.” 

So it was done. For better or worse, Mythal had gotten her way and the Sacer Saeculum had an orb.  I could only hope her historically rather benign attitude towards us mere mortals hadn't changed. 

Kaeso smirked. “Their envoy tried to hide it, but I daresay the last thing they expected was that I’d return successful. My information said they’d been trying to get their hands on it for years to no avail. Mind you, I was probably the first one to have the wit to recruit two mages with your level of skill.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to do it without us, no,” I agreed. “You also wouldn’t have been able to do it without Fadik.”

His eyes narrowed. “Kai…”

“We think you should give her an equal cut.”

“I said at the outset I wouldn’t pay her.”

“Without her you’d be getting no pay,” I reiterated.

“You’ve also told us repeatedly you don’t need the money, so why would you care?” Dorian added.

“Because I said I wouldn’t pay her,” he said, face set in a stubborn pout.

“So change your mind,” I said then paused, pretending something had just occurred to me. “Unless…Kaeso, were you lying to us? You _do_ need the money, don’t you?”

“I don’t lie about the level of my success, and I can see you’re trying to manipulate me,” he said peevishly.

“We could make it one of the duties you owe us,” Dorian said.

Kaeso sighed. “ _Vishante kaffas!_ Fine! I already expected you’d do something like this, and I know you won’t stop pestering me until I concede to your wishes. I’ll cut her in equally, but don’t expect me to deliver it to her. That is up to you. I also think it’s highly unethical of the two of you to continuously bully me into things. That’s _why_ people hate mages, you know. Now, did you bring my things?"

We handed him his luggage from Madauros. Kaeso handed us the monetary portion of our payment (already divided into three equal sums, funnily enough), and we spent what I have to admit was a very pleasant few hours talking over drinks. Kaeso had been back in Minrathous just long enough to get caught up on the sort of gossip that even Mae hadn't managed to ferret out, and was generous about getting us up to date. He'd put his charming and witty persona back on and he was very good at it.

Some of his gossip was of the purely salacious variety — who was doing what with or to who, that sort of thing — but he’d also gotten solid information about a faction within the Magisterium who was planning on sabotaging the Lucerni, another plot to finesse money from an educational foundation in order to pay for a ‘fact finding mission’ for three Magisters and their spouses to an Antivan resort town near Qunari-controlled Rivain, and three different cells practicing blood magic to further their agendas. There were some other tidbits, but they’re not worth mentioning. 

Once he'd left, Dorian looked at me searchingly. "So tell me — do we like him or are we appalled that we not only know him, but continue to allow him to walk around in public?" 

I chewed at the inside of my lower lip, thinking. "Technically, we know a lot of murderers…" 

He smiled crookedly. "Technically, we _are_ murderers." 

I made a noise of agreement. "The difference is he takes such overt joy in it. I do like him even though I know most of his personality is an act, but having said that I would never let him into any house we live in, nor would I introduce him to anyone or anything we care about." 

"Agreed. He's like our own private little monster. I would have enjoyed having one of those as a boy, though I'd always imagined them with more teeth and less fondness for Antivan-inspired outerwear."


	88. Interlude (14)

It could no longer be said to be mindless. Out of the fragments that had joined to _become_ , some had melded into a whole that was more than shattered shards of memory. They shared as they became one thing, and along with pain and power there was a memory of form and movement. It wanted those now; wanted them very much. 

It sent out a siren's call to the weaker, simpler life forms it could sense around it. Pieces of it remembered the uses of blood and bone very well.

Especially the blood. 


	89. Doomsaying

"How long are Mother and Father staying? Did they say?" Danae said as she dealt cards. 

"No. I assume they're leaving that open depending on how things go once they’re here," I said, feeling pessimistic for no good reason. I have a bad habit of that when it comes to family. 

"Should I tell Lucien to ready one of the guest houses for them, or would they find that insulting? Perhaps we should open the south wing instead?" Dorian eyed his cards and frowned slightly. 

Swivet squeaked and chewed on the corner of his card. This was the fifth one we'd had to give him out of the old deck I'd appropriated, as he wouldn't stop nibbling at them. 

"You know them better than I do," I said to Danae. "Are you sure you shuffled these?" 

She glared at me. "Yes, I'm sure. You _watched_ me. And I'm warning you, Kai, you say _you know them better_ one more time, I just might hit you." 

"But you do know them better," I objected just to be annoying. "Dorian, she's threatening me." 

He laid down his first card. "Seven. Amatus, having never had a sibling, I refuse to get involved in any sort of sibling rivalry. I do that, the next thing you know clothing is getting pulled at and there is a danger _I_ might get hit attempting to defend you." 

"Fifteen for two. See, you can't hit me for Dorian's sake." 

"All right, but only for Dorian's sake. Twenty-two. What would be harder, readying a guest house or opening an entire wing? Because I don't think our parents would mind either way," Danae said. 

"Ha! Thirty-one for two. I'll ask Lucien. I really have no idea what's easier. Swivet, stop that. You have your own card." 

Swivet made a noise like a rusty hinge, but stopped reaching for Dorian's cards. 

Our parents' visit was looming ever closer and all of us were getting edgy about it. We continued playing cards as we talked. 

"How long does it take to get from Ostwick to here?" Danae asked. 

"I have no idea. I was going Hasmal to Minrathous when I was working as an outrider," I said. "Completely different route. Damn it, I should have given them a sending crystal. At least we'd know they're okay and where they are." 

"They said they'd send word from Qarinus when they arrive," Dorian said. "Have they left already?" 

Danae nodded. "According to the letter, they were planning on leaving yesterday. That should give us at least a week, shouldn't it?" 

"Probably more," I said. “It took us a week just to get to Madauros.” 

"Are they bringing servants? I know my mother never travelled with less than a retinue, but Father was more an independent sort and only brought a few with him," Dorian said. 

"As far as I remember they were never too servant-y," I said. 

"They're still not," Danae confirmed. "Plus I don't think Father would want to bring anyone else into the Land of Evil Mages with them." 

"You just watch. Something is going to happen that'll convince him all the worst stories are true," I predicted. 

"Amatus, how many times do I have to tell you — no one is going to break in expressly to have a blood magic and slave-torturing orgy in the middle of your parents' bedroom," Dorian said. 

"No, not expressly. It'll be during their plot to kidnap my parents as part of a plan for world conquest beginning with Ostwick," I said. 

"Nobody would start a plan for world conquest with Ostwick," Danae stated. "And they're my parents too." 

"But that's the fiendish genius of their plan, if I'm not mistaken," Dorian said. " _No one_ would think to start with Ostwick." 

"And how would the blood magic and slave-torturing fit in?" Danae asked. 

"Well, we Tevinters are constitutionally unable to go more than a few days without indulging in both," Dorian explained. "Just ask any of your countrymen." 

"You do know our father half thinks that," Danae said. 

"By the time he leaves he'll adore Tevinter, or at least our little corner of it," Dorian said. 

"I'll be happy if he just likes you," I said. 

"Then you'll be happy. Everyone adores me—you know that. I'm irresistible." 

"He may not be as overcome as I with your undeniable good looks. You'll have to be personable as well," I warned. 

"Please, amatus. I know you're concerned, but now you're just descending into realms of fear-ridden fantasy. When have I ever failed to be personable, witty and charming nearly to a fault?" 

"On boats." 

"Then we shall ensure no one gets it into their head to go sailing. Danae, you talk to him. He's creating disaster out of whole cloth now." 

"He will look for reasons to dislike everything, you know," she said. "Father, I mean." 

"Then we shall give him reasons not to," Dorian said. "Honestly, is this dolorous doomsaying some Trevelyan trait that only manifests when more than one of you is present?" 

"Only when triggered by the threat of imminent parental visitation," I said. "All in all I'd rather face down a few fade demons. I'm good at that. You know I'm unskilled at family things." 

"At least you're already married," Danae said, glaring at her cards. 

"We're not married," Dorian said automatically. 

Danae snorted. "If I was as not-married as you, my parents would be delighted." 

"They're my parents too," I said. "Just introduce your undertaker to them." 

"You're just trying to deflect heat from yourself." 

"What heat do you have to deflect?" Dorian looked at me curiously. 

"It's a pre-emptive strike," Danae said. "If they're throwing fits about me taking up with a Vint undertaker, _anything_ he does will be fine with them. They're already resigned to you being a magister and you're not going to give them grandchildren anyway." 

"Oddly, the better shopping districts don't seem to stock them," Dorian said in tones of wonder. "Swivet, if you chew that card I shall zap the end of your nose." He allowed a touch of electricity to play around his fingers as he looked pointedly at our nug. Swivet sulkily went back to the card he was allowed to chew on. 

I snickered. “Taking _up_ with an _under_ taker?”

Danae sighed. “Maker’s breath, Kai.”

"Isn't there a big guest suite somewhere already?" I asked Dorian. 

"Yes. In the south wing," he said with a triumphant smirk as he pegged out. While I gathered the cards together and shuffled (amazing how much of a difference having even a little feeling in my left hand made for that activity), Ferox jumped onto the table to investigate what we were all paying attention to instead of him. 

"What about the room that twat you used to sleep with was using?" 

"That was just a room, Kai. Lucien wasn't about to give him a suite," Danae said. 

"Besides, I'm sure the south wing could use an airing out," Dorian said. "How do you keep managing to deal me these dreadful hands? Are you magicking them somehow?" 

"That probably means you're already convinced you're going to win again," I countered. 

"Hey, yeah — you both could use magic to cheat at cards, couldn't you?" Danae demanded. 

"I suppose, but what would be the point?" I said. 

"It's not the sort of discipline most mages prefer to devote themselves to," Dorian said. "Mind you, there are any number of us who are far more likely to set your cards on fire in a fit of pique in the event that you win." 

"I knew a fellow like that in the Circle," I said. "Didn't set things on fire, but he was always pestering people to play chess with him even though he was dreadful at it. He'd inevitably lose, and just as inevitably use force spells to throw the board and all the pieces around the room. Then he couldn't figure out why everyone refused to play with him." 

"I think everyone knows someone like that," Danae said. 

The conversation was light, but I was worried, and for once it was about entirely mundane things. I was worried my parents might not like Dorian, and that something might happen to them on the way to Qarinus — _after all, they're both over sixty now_ — or that they'd just hate everything about Tevinter and have a terrible time, or we'd end up in a fight. This whole parental visit thing was uncharted territory for me. 

Over the next several days Lucien and a fleet of servants opened a suite in the south wing, drafting a few bound spirits to air it out nicely. There wasn't much I could do, but I fretted about things. 

Dorian took it upon himself to distract me as much as possible, probably in self-defence since the worrying was making me irritable. We went over to Mae's one night, into town for shows a couple of others, took long walks, worked on some long-neglected magical projects, had sex, played countless card and board games, entertained our pets, and Dorian even spent some time in my workshop collaborating on how to pack more magical power into my crossbows. 

I appreciated his efforts, but the impending visit was always lurking in the back of my mind, giving me an extra helping of nervous energy that left me feeling simultaneously keyed up and exhausted. I wished they'd just get there so I could worry about something concrete.


	90. Interlude (15) - Enzo

Enzo Cabrera had not been having a good summer. It wasn't that his job selling shoes had ended abruptly when he dared to tell one of their highborn customers that the shoe she was insisting on was two sizes too small for her, just as every other shoe that size was. He'd hated that job anyway, and always known it was beneath him. 

It wasn't even that the other people who participated in open performance nights at the _Pipes and Drams_ pub didn't seem to regard his music with the enthusiasm he thought it deserved. 

It was Danae Trevelyan. It always came back to Danae, with the dancing blue-green eyes and exotic Free Marches accent. She was unlike any woman he'd ever met, and he thought what they had was real and special. She'd be his wife, the chestnut-haired mother to his children and he'd show her what real love was. 

That was the plan, and he thought she'd shared it. Then suddenly she'd announced it was over, that she didn't love him, that he should stay away, that he was _sick,_ of all things. 

All he could think was something or someone had poisoned her against him. No matter how he tried, she wouldn't listen to reason. Indeed, she'd gone so far as to threaten him if he didn't stay away from her. 

And then she'd gone. 

Not just from Antiva City, but from Antiva entirely. He'd nearly gone mad for real then, trying to find out where she was. None of her friends would tell him. He'd finally found out from her silversmithing master, though he'd had to pretend to be an eager and moneyed client to get it out of him. 

She had gone to Tevinter, of all the benighted cesspools on Thedas she could have chosen. Apparently she had a brother there she'd never mentioned. He'd tried frantically to find out more, and discovered the brother was not only a mage, but consort to a magister. 

Suddenly it all made sense. She clearly had some diabolical spell on her so if she got too close to a man, magic would turn her love to hate and pull her to Tevinter and her possessive brother (who for all Enzo knew had been taking all manner of debauched liberties with his ensorcelled sister). 

He'd written her a cautious letter in hopes that just receiving something from the hand of her lover in the outside world would break the spell, keeping the wording light and vague in case the brother was monitoring her mail. Then he'd waited, hoping against hope that he'd get a response even if she couldn't say her true feelings. He'd gotten nothing. 

Obviously, she was in need of rescuing, and Enzo was the man to do it. 

Admittedly, going against Tevinter mages was outside his experience, but true love would prevail. He scoured Antiva City for help and found an old woman in the elven quarter who sold him a potion she guaranteed would break any compulsory spell that had ever been created. All he had to do was spray some in the victim's face (with a clever device she sold him for just a few silvers extra) and within minutes the spell would be broken. 

His plan was to find her alone wherever they were holding her (which might include breaking and entering, but he was fine with that), spray the spell-breaker and take her back home without the terrible brother and his equally terrible wife ever knowing Enzo had been there. 

Along with the potion and spray attachment, he'd brought a sturdy short sword, an anti-magic charm he wore around his neck, an engagement band to give Danae, and his second-best mandolin (because accidents can happen on long road trips and his best mandolin had cost a pretty copper). 

The trip to Tevinter had been awful — the weather was hot and humid and his travelling companions a gaggle of ill-mannered ignoramuses — and had taken nearly all his money.  He was sure Danae wouldn't mind selling a few of her pieces to finance their return home, once she came to her senses and realized what her love had gone through to get her back. 

He'd gotten into Qarinus — a chaotic nightmare of a city if ever there was one, filled with evil and shifty-looking people and a swarming underclass of elves who looked nearly as despicable as their masters — and had to settle for a cot in a communal shelter near the waterfront, as he hadn’t the coin for a proper room at any of the overpriced inns. The shelter was also filled with the worst sort of mongrel scum; he made it clear he had no interest in making friends with any of them. 

Some careful questions, and equally careful disbursement of half the few coins he had left, provided him the information that this magister Pavus and her bald-headed outlander consort's estate was an hour or so's ride out of town. Of course there wasn't a reasonably priced coach to be had, so he'd have to walk. 

_The one advantage to an estate,_ he reasoned, _is they're so large there are usually any number of places a clever fellow can hide._ He would take some time to reconnoiter, camping a ways away from the place, and when the time was right he'd creep in and find where Danae was being held. Just formulating the plan made him feel mightily heroic. (Not that he planned on laying eyes on the magister or the brother, let alone fighting them.) 

He set out for the evil Pavus's estate. 

_Don't worry, Danae, I'm coming for you._


	91. Section 2 - Family Visit

**_Arrival_ **

"Maybe we should have asked Mae over. Mae's fun. She knows how to talk to people." 

Dorian smiled indulgently. "Kai, _you_ know how to talk to people, as do I. We are _also_ fun people, and _I_ am positively delightful, so stop worrying. We'll have Mae over later in the week." 

"They might not like you just because—well, just because. They're going to be here within an _hour_ , Dorian." I admit I was in a mild state of panic. Danae was nowhere to be seen — she'd disappeared into her quarters exclaiming she had nothing to wear nearly half an hour before. 

"At least the suspense will be over then. Just relax, would you?" 

"I just want them to like you," I muttered. 

"As do I. But even if they don't, they have to pretend to be civil because they're in our house," he said with cheerful conviction. 

That made me smile. "Well, let's at least make sure there's someone there to take drink orders right away. I suspect everyone's going to want one. I know I do." 

=#= 

"Bann Emil and Lady Jasia Trevelyan," Lucien announced. 

My parents walked into the foyer behind him. The last vestiges of evening sunlight were streaming in through the windows of the vestibule, painting the walls and floor with broad strokes of translucent pink and orange. 

Dorian, Danae and I were there to greet them, Dorian hanging back a little. Perhaps because of Lucien's introduction coupled with the almost otherworldly quality of the lighting, everyone's greetings were restrained verging on formal, as if we were at a diplomatic function. Maybe it was best that way, so we could make it to a more comfortable setting before actually talking to one another. 

We made our way to the main living room, where one of the servants was quick to take our drink orders; by the time everyone was seated, the drinks had arrived and the servant had smoothly exited. 

We started out with the sort of safe small talk that seems to be universal in the initial moments of any visit — how was your trip, did you make good time, how was the weather, that sort of thing. They commented on Danae's recently modified hairstyle (shaved at the sides and tapering to a long braid in the back; it was a popular look in the city) and my continued insistence on shaving my head. Danae opined that our father's recent addition of a close-cropped beard made him look older but more dangerous. 

Then my mother, who used to utterly hate the very thought of anything magical, let alone my being a mage, said, "I just have to ask — are the lights in here magically generated? They remind me of the lights Kai had in his apartment years ago." 

"Why yes, they are," Dorian said brightly. 

**~~**

_I see what you did there, amatus. Discussing lights 'brightly' indeed._

Hush, you. I'm narrating. 

**~~**

"You'll find many things here in Tevinter are magically generated, and not just for the benefit of the upper classes." He went on to give a quick overview of the sorts of things that can be done with magic as my mother listened intently, smiling slightly the entire time. Father was listening too, but without Mother’s pleasure—I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. 

"Excuse me," I interrupted, "But are you quite sure you're my mother? _Initiating_ conversations about magic?" 

She laughed. "After I got down off my high horse last year and let you show me a bit of what you can do, I came to a few realizations. One was I'd been terribly unfair to you and mages in general, letting old Chantry teachings and outdated attitudes dictate _my_ attitude even though I should have known better. Another was I found what you showed me interesting and not at all terrible. In fact, it was rather exciting." 

"And once she changed her mind, she dived in with her usual enthusiasm," Father added. 

"Shouldn't that be dove in?" Danae said. 

"Does it matter? What does that mean?" I said. 

"It means if she could, she would have become a mage," he said drily. 

"I contacted your friend Oliver and asked him to tell me about you and about magic," Mother said. "After all, he knew you all those years when we didn't get to see you. He was more than a little surprised at first. He's very fond of you, Kai.” 

“And I of him. He’s one of my best and oldest friends,” I said.

“He even told me there were certain things he wouldn't tell me without your permission, so I wasn't to feel put out if I asked any questions he wouldn't answer. But he explained a _lot_ ; he's a lovely man." 

"Yes, he is." I really didn't know what to say, and wanted to say some of what I was thinking in private. "So you're okay with…everything now?" 

She smiled. "We'll have time to talk more about it, but for now — yes, I'm okay with everything." She turned to Dorian. "And I've been very much looking forward to meeting this young man, since I'm told we have you to thank for Kai deciding to have a proper visit last year." 

"He just needed a little persuading," Dorian said. 

My father made a skeptical noise but refrained from mentioning how many years it had taken me to have that proper visit. Instead he said, "Nice place you have here. Family estate, is it?" 

"The land's been in my family for several Ages, yes. The house itself was built in my grandfather's time." 

"It's very tasteful." 

Dorian grinned. "It should be. We spent all week hiding the skulls and bondage gear." 

To my relief, Father laughed. "I suppose I deserved that. With everything they say about you lot back home, I admit I half expected something of the sort." 

"Especially given Kai's penchant for black," Mother added. 

"When have I ever given you any indication my taste in décor runs to early abattoir?" I demanded. 

"You have to admit, Tevinter isn't renowned for its cheery disposition," Father said. 

"And the Free Marches are?" 

"No, we're known for being fractious and standoffish," he said with a shrug, "which we rather are." 

He was being far too charitable in his comments about Tevinter so far. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

"I've never had the opportunity to visit Ostwick," Dorian said with every indication of interest even though I knew he had little desire to go there, "but Hasmal's quite nice. I'm afraid my travels have taken me to very little else of the Free Marches." 

"I don't think you'd care for Ostwick if Kai and Danae's attitudes are any indication," Mother said. "Markham's very nice, though. Much more cosmopolitan with the University and all. It's probably the most suited to people who are used to big cities. Starkhaven has its moments, but it's got quite a Chantry presence, especially with that Vale fellow running things. He's very devout, apparently." 

"Sebastian," Father said. "That's his name. I think he's trying to out-pious Tantervale, though why you'd want to emulate that cultural wasteland is beyond me." 

"Tantervale's a pit," Danae said. 

"Hercinia's interesting," Mother ventured. 

Father snorted. "If you like sky-high taxes, raiders and crooks. And the entire city smells of fish." 

"What about Kirkwall? Kai, you've been there, haven't you?" Mother said. 

I nodded. "A few times. We know the Viscount. It's okay, I suppose, but…uncomfortable." 

"Uncomfortable how?" Danae asked. "It smells funny too?" 

"No, it _feels_ funny. Like all the bad shite that happened in the past has done something to the place. There's an ugly undertone to it I don't care for, for all that my place there is quite nice." 

"And yet you're perfectly comfortable living in Tevinter," Father observed. 

_I knew he wouldn't be able to resist_. "It's not the same," I said. 

Mother said, "Em," and gave him her _knock it off_ look. 

Danae groaned. 

And Dorian smiled faintly, saying, "Emil — may I call you that? — has a legitimate point about Tevinter's history and our current practices. Certainly we've a lot to answer for and some serious work to do, but at the same time I would put to you that there's not a land in Thedas whose history isn't soaked in blood and populated with terrible people doing terrible things. Would you at least cede me that point?" 

Father's entire expression went from incipient sulk to bright interest. "Of course that's true. As something of an amateur historian, I _have_ to give you that. But Tevinter is the only nation that is a magocracy and a slave state." 

"The slavery question aside for a moment, are you saying that a magocracy is inherently worse than every other form of government seen on Thedas?" 

Father frowned thoughtfully. "There was a time I would have said yes without hesitation. My views have changed since then, spurred in large part by my son, of course." 

I don't know why I was surprised to hear that, but I was. 

He continued, "But because of that, I've thought about the source of that prejudice. Common opinion says it's worse because of the staggeringly unbalanced level of power you have over the rest of us, and you have to admit your magical abilities do make you a much greater threat to a common man than vice versa." 

Now Dorian frowned. "I will concede that to a point, but—" 

"I'm getting to the 'but' right now — no obvious jokes, please," Father said smiling. " _But_ if that were the whole story, things wouldn't be quite as they are. Part of the purported reason for the Circles was always to protect _you_ from _us_ as well. You have a rather terrifying advantage, but it's not and never has been proof against a person or group that's dead set on making you dead, particularly on an individual basis. And from what I've gathered, you and Kai are both unusually powerful, which means there are a lot of mages who have nowhere near the power and ability you do." 

"Correct on both counts," Dorian said. They were both clearly enjoying themselves, so the rest of us kept quiet for the time being. It was kind of fascinating watching Dorian handle my father so smoothly. "You _have_ been thinking about this. So what have you concluded?" 

"That we were given biased information by an organization little better than your own corrupt governing body." 

"I take it you mean the Chantry." 

"Who else? No matter who rules what land from the Marches through Ferelden and Orlais and beyond, the Chantry's been right there setting policy and pulling the strings of everyone and everything within its considerable sphere of influence. They are _pervasive_ in a way no other organization is. They've also been known to use magic, though they keep that very quiet, and much of what they've done throughout history is every bit as cruel and manipulative as anything your own people are infamous for." 

"On that we can agree. But you're still no fan of our system." 

"No. The imbalance of power encourages excess and corruption. I will add that Orlais and its damned Game is little better. Both of you are too busy plotting and navel-gazing to accomplish anything other than maintaining your own status quo at the expense of both your common people and your empires. It's a fool way to run a country." 

Dorian raised an eyebrow, his eyes dancing. "As opposed to the Marches?" 

Father smiled cynically. "Not at all. We're merely a collection of glorified city-states that have varying but uniformly too-close relations with the Chantry. My own family is guilty of that, as I'm sure Kai has already told you. But I will say that we at least took time out from backstabbing and power-mongering to see to it that nearly all the roads in Ostwick are now properly paved and there are basic services available throughout the country, at least in the larger towns. I'm a great believer in properly constructed infrastructure, not allowing it to crumble while keeping it falsely intact with magic." 

Dorian gave me a narrow look. " _Some_ body's been telling tales." 

"But it's true," I countered. "I may have mentioned something about it because I think it's going to bite Tevinter in the ass, playing games like that." 

"And if your magocracy was truly as effective as you pretend, you wouldn't need the vast numbers of slaves you keep," Father continued. 

"My group is working on making exactly those sorts of reforms from within the system," Dorian said. "But it's not so easy to eradicate an entrenched underclass that's utilized to do all the dirty work on the cheap. Rather like your own alienages, wouldn't you agree?" 

"The elves at least have opportunity for advancement," Father said with a frown. 

"As does a Tevinter slave, particularly if they happen to be magically gifted," Dorian replied. "You know for the vast majority of both the real opportunity for advancement is remote at best." 

"At least an elf in an alienage won't be victim to the whims of a blood mage." 

"I'm sure they feel _so_ much better knowing any violence they're subjected to isn't magically motivated." 

Father opened his mouth and closed it again, an unreadable look on his face. I wondered if I should say something, but felt like I'd be interfering. 

Then he gave Dorian a tight smile. "You _are_ quick. No wonder Kai likes you. But I'm sure we've bored everyone with political jousting enough for one night." 

"Agreed," Dorian said with an answering smile. He refrained from adding something scathingly flip and clever even though I was sure he was thinking it. "Shall we call a truce for the night?" 

"Please," Danae said. "Otherwise we'll all have to listen to the virtues of granite setts over other forms of paving again before the evening's over, I guarantee." 

"I will also use this opportunity to point out that Kai's feelings for Dorian extend far beyond 'like'," I said. "Does anyone want a refill?" 

Everyone did. I breathed an internal sigh of relief as I cast the small spell to call a servant. Yes, everyone was on their best behaviour, but that still went better than I'd feared. 

The second round was served and moments later Swivet came tearing into the room pursued by Ferox. Both animals stopped short as they noticed new people in the room and the ensuing introductions guaranteed everything remained pleasant. Swivet in particular was in his glory, circulating between everyone as we showered him with attention. Ferox gave our parents an incurious inspection, allowed them to say hello then parked himself on the couch next to Dorian. 

I wondered (not for the first time) why my parents had never had pets, but didn't bother asking since they always had the same excuses. Father always said the horses counted as pets and Mother always told the same story about the small dog she'd had as a child that had been killed and eaten by some sort of wild animal — she'd found what was left of its corpse and never quite gotten over it.

We didn’t talk about anything else important that first night. My parents spoke of happenings in Ostwick and the south, Danae told them of her latest adventures in Antiva and Tevinter (though there was no mention of her undertaker), and Dorian and I gave them a generalized and heavily edited picture of the sorts of things we’d been doing. Fortunately between Danae, the weather, and cute stories about our pets, we were able to keep attention off specifics about our activities.

_=#=_

A few hours later we ended the evening, as our parents were tired after their long trip. One of the servants showed them to their quarters while Dorian, Danae and I migrated to the games room for a few more drinks and rounds of cribbage (which had become something of a thing for us all after we'd returned from Madauros). By the time we went to our bedroom it was quite late but I was still buzzing a little from the energy bestowed by residual anxiety. 

"I think it went well tonight, don't you?" I stripped off my shirt then told my arm to let go and set it carefully on my dresser. 

"For the seventeenth time, yes, I'd say it went well," Dorian said patiently. He was stretched out on the bed, propped up on his pillow just enough to watch what I was doing. 

I stared at myself in the mirror. “So be honest — what do you think of them?”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know. Overall? I mean, I know everyone was on their best behaviour, and even then Father couldn’t resist having a go at Tevinter — you handled him beautifully, by the way — but do you think you can stand being around them for however long they’re here?” I turned away from the mirror to face him.

“Overall? I like them. I’m impressed with your mother’s change of heart about magic.”

I smiled. “Yes, that one caught me by surprise. I thought the most she’d ever concede to is grudging tolerance. If you’d seen how awful she was about it…”

“It’s a rare case of proof people can change, provided they have a desire to do so,” Dorian said easily.

“Which brings us to Father.”

“Oh, he wasn’t so terrible. Truthfully, I rather enjoyed our little debate. Reminded me I need to start preparing in earnest for Minrathous.”

I realized belatedly that I should have undone my trousers _before_ I took my arm off. I decided to tackle them one-handed because I didn’t feel like putting it back on. “You see what I mean about Father being the pretty one.”

Dorian chuckled. “Indeed I do. I also see the family resemblance between you.”

I snorted. “Oh, come on. I did not get his looks.”

“I beg to differ. It’s not obvious, but it’s there.”

“Leavened with a bloody great helping of the Leitner side of the family.”

“That’s your mother’s side, I take it.” At my affirmative noise, he continued. “Well, you needn’t worry. I’m hardly going to start pursuing your father — it’s you I’m mad about.”

I gave him a sheepish smile. “I wasn’t trying to fish for compliments, but thank you.” I managed to get the trousers dealt with and off, though I didn’t bother trying to fold them nicely.

Dorian raised an eyebrow, giving me a playful smile. "Now, is there anything I can do to get you thinking about something other than your family for the rest of the night? Help you work off that extra energy, perhaps? It should be put to _some_ sort of constructive use." 

"You _have_ been very understanding all night, not to mention remarkably restrained. I should reward you, shouldn't I?" 

"You most certainly should," he agreed. "Do you know how many brilliantly pithy comments I had to keep to myself tonight? It was quite exhausting. I feel positively _pent up_ now." 

"Well, we can't have that. How about I work off this energy getting you…is un-pent a word?" I finished undressing, lowering the lights to something a little more atmospheric as I walked to the bed. 

"It is as long as you put action to word. It may take some time and effort on your part to fully accomplish that goal." He stretched languidly, knowing damn well how good he looked doing that. 

"I think you'll find I'm up to the task." I threw myself on the bed next to him and ran my hand down his smoothly muscled chest and stomach, settling on his hip. 

He smirked. "I hope so. I'd hate to find myself re-penting."


	92. Interlude (16) - The Difficulties with Housebreaking

Enzo lowered his handheld telescope with a sigh of frustration at the habits of rich people. He had positioned himself behind a scratchy shrubbery on a low hill overlooking the Pavus estate, thinking he could get a good look at the inhabitants of the household. The problem was, this household was sprawling yet protected from prying eyes. A middle-aged couple had pulled up in a fancy coach some time ago, and a skinny man had answered the door. After that, nothing. Certainly no Danae, though he was certain this was where she was being held. He couldn't tell if all the denizens of the estate had gone to bed or not. In fact, he hadn't managed to catch sight of one person for hours from his vantage point, though here and there he'd seen lights go on and off. 

He would have to assume it was late enough that most of the household was asleep and sneak in closer. He'd purchased a black hooded cloak for just such an occasion. Now he pulled the hood up, unsheathed his short sword, made sure his second-best mandolin was strapped firmly to his back and crept down the low hill towards the big house. 

Both moons were out and near full, so if anyone had been looking they would have clearly seen a black, human-shaped form hunching its way across the beautifully manicured expanse of lawn. Fortunately for Enzo, no one was looking. 

He made it to the perimeter of the estate, where there were finally trees and shrubberies to skulk behind. He'd looked carefully for evidence of guard dogs before daring his approach and seen none, so he skulked with a degree of confidence, looping around until he found a window that looked like it could be to a bedroom or something more private where his love might be being held. 

He approached the window, but before he got all the way there he started feeling the most dreadful sensation of fear. Something terrible would happen if he looked in that window. It was trapped or spelled, he was sure of it. He took another step closer and the fear turned to outright terror. He turned back, creeping hurriedly to the line of decorative shrubbery he'd been hiding in. The terror abated. 

He moved on to a different section of the sprawling house. There was a faint light in one of the windows, but all the others were dark. He approached one of the dark ones, and again that growing feeling of terror and doom gnawed at him. He backed off, frowning. This wasn't right. It dawned on him that everything was probably magically protected. That was why there were no dogs — Magisters didn't need them when they could summon demons. He was likely feeling the horrific aura of the demons guarding the place. 

"I don't know how to open a locked window anyway," Enzo muttered. In this weather you'd think somewhere there would be an open window, so he'd shift his search to something that didn't require thieving skills. 

All the cursed windows were closed. He found a few different patio areas, but he got that same sickening, overwhelming feeling of fear and despair when he approached them, and even saw a pair of glowing eyes near one. 

_This is impossible. Ghastly Vints and their ghastly magic. Don't they ever leave this place?_ They were likely down in some horrid sub-basement practicing depraved blood magic rituals on innocent outlander captives he imagined as looking much like himself. 

He would simply have to come up with a backup plan. Who knew breaking and entering was so difficult? 

With a gusty sigh, he started the long trudge back to his campsite, which he had set up in an overgrown area behind a copse of trees, as close to the landscaped part of the estate as he dared. It was primitive, but still better than staying around the filthy mongrel Vints and their even more disgusting slaves. 

=#= 

A ten-minute walk and a world away, the thing in the reflecting pool twisted and lurched, flexing old magics and rotten half-memories. One of those memories was stronger than the others; it still had a personality attached. It pushed itself to the forefront and for a few moments was able to gather its mass into man-shape before collapsing back into formlessness. It wasn't there yet, but was learning rapidly. 


	93. Dorian - A Night On the Town

**~~**

Feel free to break out a celebratory bottle of the nectar of your choice — your favourite guest narrator has returned! (I know, continued insistence on exclamation points is a sign of weak writing, but only when they're unwarranted, which is certainly not the case here.) 

I've agreed to pen this section because Kai claims he's bored himself every time he tries to write it. I _have_ watched him fret over it until he's gone into a sulk, so this is to maintain my happiness as much as his. I also have a more balanced perspective on the family visit than he does, since it wasn't my family descending on us. 

One thing I had never considered about getting seriously, permanently involved with someone was the fact that most people have a family of one sort or another. In those giddy days of the Inquisition, it hadn't been an issue for either one of us — both our families were far too distant in every sense of the word.

Oh, there’d been an occasional letter from his parents that made it to Skyhold. I inevitably ended up helping him with those, since his normally prodigious talent with the written word evaporates when required to pen one simple page of a letter home. Those were few and far between, and there was never any talk of physical meetings (though they began making overtures in that direction when he moved to Hasmal). 

Then Kai moved to Tevinter, and in a moment of nostalgic regret and besotted altruism, I encouraged him to reconnect with his family. He made the trek to Ostwick, the visit went better than any of them had dared hope, and now here we were. 

I didn't mind Danae showing up on our doorstep like an unusually well-equipped waif. She turned out to be a delightful young woman, and it was rather fascinating, the ways she was very like yet very unlike my amatus. 

That did not, however, prepare me for the day after their parents' arrival, when I found myself literally surrounded by Trevelyans. 

I imagine I hear you saying, "But Dorian, you were surrounded by them the night before as well." 

It's true, but it didn't feel the same. The night before, everyone was intent on having drinks and a smoothly pleasant introduction and the whole affair broke up in a few hours. 

This time the entire day stretched out in front of us — a day that needed to be filled with genial conversation and interesting activities and fun for the whole family. A day that would then need to continue enchantingly into the night. 

Though I didn't let on (I am a master of insouciance), it worried me nearly as much as Kai. How were we going to keep these people happy and entertained for maker knew how long? As long as it didn't involve boats I was willing to throw myself into the role of witty, debonair and fascinating host, but I had never entertained parents before. I couldn't quite extricate the niggling feeling from the back of my mind that there was a rule book somewhere I was missing. 

I must say it was interesting, seeing them all together. 

In my own family I am, I can say without boasting, by far the prettiest — one of the perks of centuries of careful breeding. While magical power is the primary goal for any Altus family, there are those that have also tried for physical perfection to enhance and accentuate the magical side of things. Which means on the whole, we are a rather handsome group of people, even if many Altus have souls as rotten as a Nevarran necropolis on visiting day. 

Kai told the truth about his father being the pretty one between his parents. The man really was uncommonly attractive, possessed the kind of sophisticated good looks one normally sees in paintings noblemen have commissioned of themselves with the understanding they will be embellished. He had thick black hair just beginning to get salted with grey, blue-grey eyes made striking by black brows his son had inherited, straight nose and full lips. Apparently the close-cropped beard was new, but it suited him. He was slim rather than muscular, and moved with the same sort of unconscious grace Kai possessed (and attributed, when I mentioned it later, to them both having years of dancing lessons as children). 

His mother had hair the shade of rich coffee, cut in a short, calculatedly tousled style that suited her face. Her eyes were dark grey with a touch of green and her features were just irregular enough that she'd never be called beautiful in a conventional sense. Like her son, the words _striking_ and _intense_ were the first that came to mind. (Although one of the things I find fascinating about Kai is how from one angle he looks rather plain — even a trifle homely — then he'll turn slightly and suddenly he's stunning.) 

Jasia had a quick wit and the ability to talk to anyone and make them feel at ease (well, except her son). Emil was quieter and had that same dry sense of humour as Kai. I knew they also had their quirks and unpleasant prejudices, but those weren't in evidence. 

Danae seemed thoroughly relaxed and cheerful around them despite her professed worry that part of their goal in coming to Tevinter was to take her back with them. Kai was being affable and appeared unworried, but he was nervy underneath. I could see it in his more frequent than usual silences and the tic he has of running his hand across his head when he's uncomfortable. 

And me? I must profess to a touch of…not nervousness, but _concern_ , perhaps. Along with a perfectly natural desire for them to like me (which, let's be honest, they were bound to), I admit to an oddly urgent desire for them to like Tevinter. Most southerners who venture into our land are already prejudiced against it and make the visit as brief as possible, so they tend to see what they expect and nothing more. 

Kai's parents had those prejudices — particularly his father — but they were at least somewhat willing to set them aside and give Tevinter a chance for his sake. If we could manage to make their visit enjoyable and avoid any ghastly magical accidents or public displays of slave abuse, I had a vague but heartfelt hope they'd go home with a positive picture of my homeland, and what it could become given enough political will. Outside of backroom dealings that keep commerce going between Tevinter and the rest of Thedas to a much greater degree than anyone suspects, southerners' immediate reaction to anything Tevinter is to make disparaging remarks and shut us down. A few outland allies willing to support those of us trying to bring about positive change could be invaluable. 

Not that political machinations were foremost in my mind — should they ever be, I would hope someone would put me out of my misery. I just truly love a great deal about Tevinter and wanted Kai's parents to see and understand it's not all bad. 

After some debate on what would best entertain everyone, we set out for the city. Kai wanted them to see what magical enhancement can do for plays and musical performances, I wanted them to see that Qarinus is a beautiful city, and Danae primarily wanted to sneak off to see her undertaker while we were escorting her parents to all those engaging venues. 

**~** _#_ **~**

The coach ride into Qarinus was not one I'd care to repeat. Emil had apparently decided it would be a grand time to buttonhole me about everything that was wrong with Tevinter, and the opinions of the others along for the ride be damned. It started innocently enough, with Emil regarding me as if he had nothing more on his mind than trying to pleasantly pass the time. 

"So tell me, Dorian, is being a Magister at all like being Bann? What is it that you do?" 

"I don't know a great deal about being a Bann, but for the most part we do the same as any other governing body. We're responsible for making and passing laws, implementing policy, that sort of thing. Regardless of what you've heard, most of it is rather dull and prosaic," I said. 

"So that would include upholding the slave trade, I take it?" He looked at me with deceptive mildness. 

Danae groaned and looked determinedly out the window. Kai scowled but kept quiet, not wanting to fight my battles for me, I assume. 

"It's not something that comes up frequently, Emil. And it's not something we can change just by attempting to force new laws through. One of our past Archons tried that. He was summarily assassinated." 

"I understand you can't change something that entrenched single-handedly, but do your people even try? Are you planning to address the corruption that runs rampant up here?" 

I raised one eyebrow just enough to suggest skepticism. "What corruption would that be, pray tell?" 

"Using blood magic to grant _favours_ to corrupt officials. Hosting enemies of the southern lands as if they were visiting royalty. Using dummy organizations to put your fingers into every lucrative pie the south has to offer. Slave trade. Human smuggling and offering asylum to enemies of the south— need I go on?" He glared at me. 

"From what circular did you glean all that?" I feigned polite interest. 

"Don't give me that. You know it's true."

The truth is, I’m quite aware of the rampant corruption and unsavoury elements in my homeland, and I abhor it. But Emil wanted a fight, and I didn’t want to give him one. Far better to keep things light, to my thinking. 

I sighed. "It is true to an extent, but what you've heard has been run through the filter of the south's contempt for all things Tevinter. Will you at least admit that?" 

His mouth twitched in irritation, but he gave the barest nod. "I'll give you that, but that doesn't mean Tevinter hasn't been a bastion of corruption for ages." 

I gave him a smile that exuded amused tolerance. "I submit to you that a great deal of what you've just listed is no more or less than any other government does. There are unsavoury elements in all of them. Not that I applaud them, mind you, but those sorts of practices are hardly limited to Tevinter." 

"Not the blood magic. Not the human smuggling," he said smugly. 

Before I could reply, it appeared my amatus had had enough. 

"For fucks sake, Father, if you can bear to drop the slavery part, the human smuggling you're getting so high and mighty about is them giving asylum to mages escaping abuse and tyranny in the south. As far as this sudden expertise you’ve apparently acquired in blood magic, unless you’ve taken a course somewhere, you _still_ know nothing about magic, blood or otherwise, except the bits I've shown you. Do us all a favour and stop it, would you?" he snapped. 

"Hear hear," Danae said, radiating boredom. She turned a glare on her father. "Dorian's a good man. Why pick on him? _He_ didn't set up their government." 

"If anything he and Mae are trying to _improve_ things up here," Kai added. 

Emil had gone expressionless under the onslaught of both his offspring. He didn't quite roll his eyes, but he gave a little snort and said, "Fine, I withdraw my questions. Maker forbid we insult the fine Imperium too stringently. Consider the subject closed." 

He turned away from all of us, pasted his gaze on the window and — just as I've seen his son do when he's angry — went into a sulk. 

Jasia, who'd been silent through the entire exchange, looked at all of us with a little smile and said, "Well, now that that's done, where are you planning on taking us tonight?" 

_~_ _#_ _~_

We alit from our coach (minus Danae, who'd been dropped off in another part of the city) on the main thoroughfare of Qarinus's sizeable entertainment district. Once evening falls, it's a dazzling sight. From what I've read, it all started far back in the Blessed Age with one shopkeeper commissioning a Laetan mage of middling power (they always specify that in the histories) to enhance the sign for his little restaurant. He had the mage spell the picture of a tall drinking glass (which was tipped at a jaunty angle) by making it glow an attractive shade of blue, green or pink with pretty white sparks erupting from the top and cascading down the sides. The sign was such an attraction and drew in so much business that the restaurateur was able to expand to half a dozen eateries around northern Tevinter. Well, then nothing would do in the other shopkeepers' minds but that they should have magically enhanced signs, another enterprising woman who ran a theatre decided the restaurants shouldn't have all the fun, and the entertainment district as we now know it was born. 

I should amend that. _Almost_ as we know it now. By the beginning of the Dragon Age, there were so many garish and increasingly tasteless signs choking the district, the city had to step in and make regulations. The Qarinus aesthetic laws were enacted, setting out broad but definite guidelines about what signs were acceptable. Many signs of questionable taste disappeared inside their businesses or into private collections and the entertainment district became safe to stroll through with the _entire_ family. 

Emil had emerged from his sulk as we entered the city and was making an effort to be, if not cheerful, at least civil. 

So naturally, what should we see the moment we began walking down the promenade leading to the central quadrangle? Two slavers leading a string of at least eight slaves right toward us. Naturally, the slaves looked as if they'd been cast in one of the anti-slavery dramas one occasionally sees in the smaller independent theatres off the main thoroughfare, which is to say every one of them looked skinny, ill-treated and stereotypically wretched. Also naturally, the slavers looked like brutish ruffians straight out of the same dramatic presentation. 

Jasia looked away with her lips pursed, shaking her head. Emil stood like he'd been told to guard a door, ramrod straight, arms folded across his chest, and glared. I realized looking at him that not all the intensity Kai could put into a look came from his mother's side. Emil's glare could have stripped varnish. 

Kai shot me a sympathetic glance and a minute shrug. 

"This part of the entertainment?" Emil asked, tone so dry I wouldn't have been surprised to see dust dripping from his lips. 

"This is…incredibly bad timing," I admitted as the last few slaves shuffled past. "It is not typical." 

"So atypical no one's looking twice at the spectacle," Emil said in that same tone. Lovely. Intelligent _and_ observant. I spared a moment to wish Kai's parents had been the sort of lumpish bumpkins we Tevinters characterize southerners as. 

Kai bravely stepped into the fray. "Father, that _is_ abnormal. But it's legal here, so no one's going to go out of their way to start a scene even if they don't personally like it." 

Emil grunted. It was a layered grunt that conveyed a vast spectrum of disapproval, but all he said was, "I'll give you credit for at least not bringing up alienages. Suppose the evening can't help but improve from here, eh?" 

"It's very _bright_ , isn't it?" Jasia said with a smile that was only a little forced. "Everything here seems much brighter. The South must have seemed terribly dark to you, Dorian." 

I took her offered change of subject with enthusiasm. "I won't deny it took some adjustment, though I suppose there are those times when flickering torchlight or warm lamplight can establish more of an atmosphere." 

"Yes, it's called soot," Kai said. 

Emil didn't say anything, but I saw his lips twitch into an almost-smile. 

Now that the unfortunate string of slaves was gone, they were looking around the area as I'd hoped they would. The Qarinus entertainment district is famous for its size, appearance and vivacity. The whole area had been steadily renewed and improved, eschewing the old-fashioned domed buildings so prevalent in other parts of the city for sleek lines and ornate, inviting entryways. The sidewalks are wide, encouraging walkers to stroll from one venue to another, and the streets are kept meticulously clean (yes, by slaves; I don't claim things are perfect yet). 

The streets all lead to the quadrangle, where only foot traffic is allowed. It's set up like a typical town square, but one devoted exclusively to entertainment. There are theatres, music halls, nightclubs and restaurants in abundance, as well as venues for games of chance. 

If you go a bit off the beaten track, you can also find entertainments of a more…carnal nature, but we weren't about to take Kai's parents to any of those. Not even if they asked nicely. 

Of course, the most outstanding feature of the district was all the signage I mentioned. It seemed every place had a magically-enhanced sign of some sort. Some were quite simple, merely having the name of the place in glowing letters, some of which cycled through a handful of colour changes. Others got very elaborate, with scenes and moving characters or swirling patterns of light that enticed hypnotically (though after the implementation of the bylaw, not _too_ hypnotically). 

"This is all done with magic?" Jasia said. "How do they keep it up? They don't have a mage operating each one, do they?" 

"No, a mage will craft the spell that activates the design. As long as she's done it correctly, it just needs to be refreshed now and then," I explained. 

"How long do they run before they have to be refreshed?" she asked. 

"It depends. Some need it every few weeks or months. Others can run the better part of a year before they start to fade. According to legend, there's a simple sign in a bun shop in Minrathous that's been running steadily for eighty-plus years." 

"More likely someone sneaks in and refreshes it now and then," Emil said. 

"They claim not, but I've no idea if it's true," I said. 

The theatre we were heading for was about a ten minute walk. After a few of those minutes Emil said, "No wonder you like it here, Kai. Don't think I've seen this many people wearing black in my life." 

Kai just smiled. "Yes, there's at least one place that's realized black looks good for every occasion." 

"It's also very slimming," I added. 

Emil did have a point about the fashion sense of my countrymen. Kai aside, the other three of us were like glittering points of light as we sparkled down the promenade. Emil was wearing deep green, form-fitting trousers with warm gold piping tucked into high brown boots, and a long tunic of burnt sienna embroidered with subtle patterns also in gold in a light linen that was appropriate for the heat of a Tevinter summer. Jasia was his stylish counterpoint (again putting the lie to the bumpkin stereotype), wearing loose, cream-coloured trousers, low black boots and a diaphanous drape front blouse of ultramarine, cinched at the waist with a silver chain belt. It seems both Trevelyan women are not fond of dresses when they can avoid them. As we were strictly casual that night, I had chosen trousers of a deep, midnight blue tucked into black boots with more silver buckles than was strictly necessary, and a loose, high-collared shirt of purest white outside and deepest blue inside (it's actually reversible so it works for all seasons). It had been magically enhanced to glint with silver highlights as I moved. 

We'd chosen to attend a popular play followed by a musical act that was playing at one of the better nightclubs. Kai has grown quite enamoured of the way magic can enhance music and would probably spend most of his nights in music halls if he could get away with it. His unabashed enthusiasm is rather charming and, I must admit, infectious. I sometimes forget that he never had access to such things before moving up here, until he surprises me with those moments of honest, almost childlike delight in things I'd long ago become accustomed to, to the point of taking them for granted. 

I could see that Emil was determined not to enjoy himself as he squinted critically at everything we passed, and did my level best to pretend I hadn't noticed. He didn't go so far as to say anything about mages, but he found a way to insert pithy remarks about slavery into every other sentence. It was becoming increasingly difficult to disregard and I know Kai was getting impatient with him; in my estimation we reached the theatre just in time. 

We'd chosen a play that was both wildly popular and used very little in the way of magical effects. It was called "Waiting for the Magister" (the whole thing concerned two men on a roadside waiting for a magister that never did arrive - sounds dull, but it's so well-written it's marvellously funny), and I saw Emil give the title an extra glare, no doubt because of the word _Magister_. Within half an hour of it starting, Kai nudged me and pointed: Emil had forgotten to dislike everything and was watching with obvious pleasure. I felt an absurd level of triumph at that. 

I think the nightclub rattled Kai's parents at first — it being brighter and louder than anything they were used to — but the fact that we ordered drinks helped their attitude immensely. (I'm the first to admit I'm no one to pass judgment, but after a few days it was easy to see where Kai and Danae had gotten their drinking habits.) 

They seemed to enjoy the musical act, but enjoyed its conclusion more, I think, in contrast to their son's mild disappointment that it had to end. 

As we'd arranged, Danae joined us at the club about an hour after we'd arrived, giving her parents vague answers concerning where she'd been all that time. She's not a very skilled liar, but before they could ask too many awkward questions, the musicians' second set started and they lost interest in trying to shout over the music. The moment they looked away, I gave Danae a smirk and mimed a small round of applause for her timing. She rolled her eyes and mimed wiping her brow. 

Things were going swimmingly, as they say, until Emil declared he needed to use the facilities and headed off into the depths of the club. 

"Shouldn't you go with him?" I asked Kai. 

He gave me a blank look. "Go with him? Do you have any idea what I'd hear? _Kai, I'm a grown man. I don't need a chaperone just to take a piss,"_ he said in a passable imitation of his father. 

"Yes, but this is a high-end club, amatus. Which means most of these glittering people around us are mages. _Think_ about that." I waited until the look of horror crossed his features. 

" _Venhedis._ Still, maybe nothing will happen. Father's no idiot," he said with shaky conviction. 

"No, _he_ isn't." I raised my chin towards the rest of the room and Kai followed the direction I indicated. It was a full house tonight, and the majority of the crowd was youngish, privileged, magically gifted and inebriated. 

"Shite. Maybe I should go find him," Kai said. 

"Maybe we both should," I corrected. 

Kai gaped at me. "You want to leave Mother and Danae here by themselves with all _them_ around?" 

He had a good point. I thought a moment and said, "Then you stay here at the table. You look threatening enough I doubt many of them would brave your potential wrath. I'll go find your father." 

Kai looked like he wanted to argue, but he nodded. "That makes sense. If nothing happens he also can't get as annoyed with you." 

"Then wish me luck before I venture into the maw. There's nothing worse than spoiled, drunken mages. I should know — I was one once." 

Kai laughed and kissed me. "Luck. Try not to permanently damage too many of them." 

"Only if necessary. Normally my scathing wit is more than sufficient." I nodded to the others and entered the crowd.

Back at the table, Danae was demanding, _What was that all about?_

I wove my way around round tables filled with raucous mages. The alcohol and the music had most of them in a loudly cheerful mood, but all it took was one, and Emil looked out of place both in dress and age. Though I was hoping I'd simply intercept him returning from the facilities, I kept an eye out for signs of a disturbance. I took no joy in seeing I was correct to be concerned. 

Emil was standing before a table of four mages — two women and two men — but it wasn't voluntary. I could see the traces of a binding spell holding him in place. I'll give him credit, though. He didn't look worried in the slightest, just contemptuous and cold. 

As I approached, one of the women was saying, "Oh, just let him go, Cossus." 

"No. He's a sleeper and he _brushed past me_ and didn't apologize. I won't have it." 

Cossus had not come from a family that had devoted energy into breeding for looks. He was tall and broad-shouldered with incongruously skinny legs. His face was broad and round, with widely-spaced blue eyes, a largish, round-tipped nose and thin lips. He was losing his hair and had covered the fact with a cheap illusion spell that was fading in and out. He was wearing tight black trousers that tapered to low-heeled black ankle boots with long, curled tips. Above the waist he'd donned an oversized long-sleeved shirt sporting thick horizontal stripes of red and black. The red stripes had stylized black snakes spelled so they seemed to be undulating around him. I'm sure he was impressed with the effect, but the size of the shirt made his head look small, with the result that he looked like nothing so much as a child's top come to rest against a chair. 

He glared up at Emil. "Well, Sop? Are you going to apologize or do I have to get strict with you?" 

"I have no intention of apologizing," Emil said coldly. "If you think this is impressing your girlfriend, you might want to ask her first, seeing as I was no threat to you before you threw this ridiculous spell on me." 

" _Not_ his girlfriend," the woman said with a poisonous look at Cossus. 

"What kind of accent do you call that? You sound barbaric," Cossus sneered. 

"Is it Free Marches?" not-his-girlfriend asked. 

"That's right. It appears you're better educated than your lumpish friend here," Emil said. 

The other man laughed and said, "Are you going to let him talk to you like that, Cossus?" 

"I daresay he is," I said as I reached the table. I banished Cossus's spell, allowing my lip to rise in a small sneer. "What _are_ they teaching in the Circles these days? That was positively shoddy." 

"Who the fuck are you?" Cossus demanded, slipping into profanity with the same speed that his control of the situation was slipping. 

"I am wondering what possessed you to detain my friend." I raised my eyebrows in an _I'm waiting_ look. 

"He was being disrespectful," Cossus said. 

"Really?" I pretended shock and turned to Emil. "Were you being rude to this paragon of Tevinter society?" 

"Certainly not," Emil said. 

Cossus's friends were all looking highly amused, which led me to believe they may not have been all that friendly towards him. 

"I think instead you should apologize to my friend," I said. 

"Apologize to a sop? Go fuck yourself, Magister Moustache." He snickered at his witticism and the others joined in. 

I used Kai's trick of raising one eyebrow and gave them a patented Magisterium smile, which is the sort of smile you give someone right before you sentence them to death in order to acquire their house and their wife. "You're only partially correct. The name is Magister Pavus. You may have heard of me? I have that little estate just outside of town?" 

Not-his-girlfriend blanched, the other man muttered _Kaffas_ and the other woman squinted up at me. 

Cossus snorted. "Oh, yes, I'm supposed to believe you're a magister. Some random twat at a nightclub who dresses like a fop and pals around with sop Marchers. You're lucky I don't plant a fire spike in your face." 

"Cossus, you should apologize," the second woman said slowly. 

"Why?" he snapped at her. 

"Because Magister Pavus has a moustache, lives outside of the city, and his consort is a Marcher." 

"What, this old bastard?" Cossus waved in Emil's direction. I suspected if Emil had a weapon, Cossus would have lost that hand. 

"I know more than one Marcher. You'd be amazed, the sorts of friends you pick up as a Magister," I said. 

"I've had about enough of you," Cossus sneered. "Maybe we should take this outside." 

"Are you challenging me to a fight?" I said with my best excited schoolboy intonations and turned to Emil. "Do you think I should? You're the injured party here, after all." 

He shrugged. "Hardly worth the effort, is he? I'd just tie the sap to his chair so he can't trouble anyone else, but I'm just a soporati." 

"You're quite right, though. I'd hate to get unsightly wrinkles in my wardrobe indulging in whatever manner of fisticuffs Cossus here wants to subject me to. Do you suppose his friends will try to retaliate if I deal with him?" 

The friends all hastened to indicate Cossus was on his own, earning them a disgusted sneer from him. 

"Then I'll do as you suggest." I gave Cossus another magisterial smile and cast a lovely and intricate binding spell encompassing him and his chair. "That should keep you busy for a while," I said cheerfully. 

"You can't do that!" he yelped. 

"Actually, I can and did." I turned as one of the staff appeared to investigate the surge of magic (most of the better venues have strict rules about what magic can be used in them, as people have been known to get out of hand in the past, and one drunken magical battle has the potential destructive power to level the better part of a city block). 

I explained that Cossus had been harassing my friend and attempted to start an altercation with me, so I bound him to his chair. 

The staff member simply said, "A wise solution, Magister Pavus. If he causes any more trouble we'll see to it that he leaves and doesn't return." 

With a gracious nod, I said goodbye to Cossus and we walked away. I didn't release the binding spell; it would fade on its own in an hour, give or take. 

Once we’d made use of the facilities, I started in the direction of our table. Emil stopped me with a small shake of his head. "Let's get a drink, shall we?" 

I assented, wondering what he was up to. We got our drinks and he led me to a small two-person table near the back of the club. He took a drink, drummed his fingers on the side of the glass and said, "I suppose I owe you a word of thanks." 

"No need," I assured him. 

He made a noise that sounded slightly annoyed. "I'm afraid there is. You came looking for me, didn't you?" 

"Kai wanted to, but we didn't want to leave Danae and Jasia alone." 

"Because we're soporati, is that right?" 

"Quite, though you seemed to be holding your own with that buffoon." 

His lips twisted in an ironic smile. "Nice of you to say, but as I pride myself on being a realist, I was likely moments away from something unpleasant happening that I was unable to combat." 

"Then you understand my reason for searching in no way impugned your ability to handle yourself." 

The smile became more genuine. "I'm very familiar with those like my friend back at that table. What I'm not familiar with is encountering morons of that ilk that also have magical ability. I was overconfident." 

"I felt the need to stretch my legs anyway." 

He sighed into his drink. "I doubt that. In any case, I…just wanted to thank you and say I owe you an apology. I won't go so far as to say I approve of Tevinter, but I've been unfairly hard on you since we got here. So, I hope you'll accept my apology." 

"Consider it accepted," I said. "I appreciate it." 

"Thank you." He favoured me with a crooked smile. "You certainly weren't my first choice as a life partner for my son, but I may have to admit he chose well. You're not bad…for a Vint." 

I grinned back. "I imagine that's high praise indeed from a Marcher. I've heard you're an insular lot." 

"That we are. You're only the top of the list of countries we don't like or trust, followed closely by Orlais, Nevarra, Antiva and Ferelden. I imagine we should get back to the others before they start wondering if something happened." 

"When nothing untoward did, you mean?" 

"You're a perceptive man, Dorian." 

"It's one of my many virtues," I said lightly as we headed back. "But don't let that get bandied about either. It will ruin my image of magisterial self-involvement." 

_~_ _#_ _~_

We got home late and everyone was tired enough that they made their way to their own bedrooms without dawdling about for end-of-evening pleasantries. I came out of the washroom to find Kai lying on his stomach, propped on his elbows, on top of the bed. He had already stripped down to his smallclothes and gave me an accusatory look. "All right, are you going to tell me what happened?" 

"What happened?" I repeated. 

"Between you and Father. Ever since you went to fetch him at the club he's been _pleasant_ to you. What happened?" 

I shrugged. "We just had a drink and a bit of a talk. He agreed that my personality is too delightful to warrant further ill treatment, and perhaps I'm not personally responsible for everything wrong with Tevinter after all." 

He squinted at me as I joined him on the bed. "In other words you're not going to tell me." 

"There's nothing _to_ tell, amatus." I massaged his shoulders, working at the knots of tension he always got there and in his neck. 

He slid off his elbows to lie flat with an appreciative little groan. "You know I'm letting you get away with distracting me," he murmured. 

"I was counting on it. This is a much more pleasant way to end the night, don't you think?" 

"Mm hm. But I still think it's unfair you won't tell me. Ow. Maker, that feels good."

**~~**


	94. Dorian - A Chat With Jasia/ Not So Ancient History

**~~**

After the excitement of the city, everyone was content to remain at the estate the following day. That made Kai happy because he wanted to include Swivet, and couldn't on trips to Qarinus. He's terribly devoted to his nug, but I suppose I can't blame him. Not only does Swivet think Kai is the most wonderful creature in the world, but he did essentially save Kai's life once. I get on well with him too, but have had to reconcile myself to the fact that as far as the nug is concerned, I shall be eternally secondary to my amatus. 

Lucien arranged for Kai's parents to have breakfast brought to their suite, neatly avoiding the need for us to be awake and scintillating at too early an hour. Though we did have to arise earlier than Kai likes, liberal application of coffee and my undivided attention got him sufficiently alert and cheerful before we ventured forth from our own bedchamber. 

In deference to the usual hot weather, I wore a sleeveless linen shirt of eggshell white with a subtle gold pattern woven into it, light cotton trousers dyed a desert brown with just a hint of a gold tint and low, laceless shoes of a darker brown that also sported subtle gold accents. Kai's sole concession to the weather was to don a sleeveless charcoal shirt. Otherwise he was in his usual black trousers and leather boots, though the boots only went to mid-calf; to his mind that probably counted as _summerwear_. 

When we met them on the back patio, Danae had donned a long, short-sleeved tunic that was mostly carnelian with dark port accents. She'd belted it around the waist with a silver chain belt and paired it with strappy sandals. Jasia wore white trousers and a loose, powder blue blouse. Her shoes were low, white slip-ons. Emil's attire consisted of blousy, light grey trousers and a laced shirt with a diamond pattern in ultramarine and amethyst. His shoes were also slip-ons dyed a deep blue that complemented the shirt. 

We chatted of frothy, inconsequential things for a time and amused everyone by allowing Swivet to chase his magically-controlled ball around the patio (Kai and I took turns at it). Ferox, no doubt seeing that Jasia was wearing white, decided she was his new best friend and needed to wear a black cat on her lap. 

We had a light lunch then, as everyone was feeling restive, we took them on a tour of the grounds immediately surrounding the house. The Pavus estate itself is vast and would have taken far too long to circumnavigate. 

I know that through bitter experience. One fine day, my father got it into his head that I needed to have an understanding of the true scope of our holdings as they would eventually all belong to me and my own children (obviously this was in the halcyon days when I was their shining child prodigy and possible future Archon). 

Father was, of course, far too busy with his magisterial duties, and Mother wouldn't have set out to survey the entirety of our lands even on threat of bodily dismemberment, so my education and well-being were entrusted to the slave charged with overseeing the day-to-day operations of the estate. His name was Alberich and I think he'd been born in the Anderfels, but he'd been a part of our household for decades. He was a powerfully built blond man with pale blue eyes and a remarkably even temperament. I'd always found him fascinating because his head was almost perfectly square. 

We'd set out on horseback one morning under cerulean skies. As I would be seen by all manner of people who lived and worked on our property, I had donned a fetching riding ensemble of fine-tanned leathers in cream and dark sienna paired with a Bastian shirt of rich burgundy and a riding cloak of cobalt blue with gold chasing. Alberich was wearing worn brown riding leathers over worn brown trousers and a shirt that looked like it had previously held potatoes. He resisted my suggestion that he upgrade his wardrobe even slightly and insisted we bring along what I considered to be an excessive number of water skins. 

I could have commanded him to improve his attire and leave a few of the water skins, but when the pale eyes in that square head regarded me with stolid calm, I always experienced the tiniest frisson of terror. You see,  I always wondered how he could move his head at all with such a limited amount of neck. Contemplation of that always unnerved me, and made me feel if I let myself relax around the man I would dissolve into a fit of giggles I would be helpless to stop. 

So I kept my own counsel and we rode under skies that remained cerulean and cloudless as the sun climbed ever higher. 

And we rode. 

And we rode. 

And everywhere I had to maintain my dashingly dignified demeanour, as everywhere there were people, many of whom had never seen the illustrious heir who would one day hold the land they worked. Do you know what cerulean skies signal when summer comes to Tevinter? 

I did, but I didn't consider that when we set out in the cool of the morning. I was more concerned with impressing the _little_ people on what I assumed would be an amusing jaunt soon concluded. Instead I suffered for hours in my grand ensemble that had been comfortable that morning, while Alberich rode with stolid contentment in his worn leathers and potato sack shirt. 

I cast cooling spells, of course, but I must admit my fine control was not what it is now. I had a bad habit of putting too much power into them, which meant I made myself cold rather than comfortable. Once I either banished the spell or let it run out, the heat and humidity felt twice as stifling. I was finally so enervated, I gave up on them.

By the time we returned home that evening, all the water skins were empty, I having sweated most of their contents into my no-longer-grand ensemble. 

It was the first and only time I'd circumnavigated our "nearby" holdings. 

In present time, the tour encompassed those parts of the grounds with the gardens and patios; nothing was more than ten minutes' walk from the house. When we reached Kai's shooting range, Emil showed some real enthusiasm for the first time. Jasia suggested Kai demonstrate what he could do with his nasty little magically-enhanced crossbows, something Kai was all too happy to do. 

He enlisted Danae to help fetch them then the two of them laid a sampling out before Emil. Apparently she felt she should help with the demonstration (evincing some of the same odd bloodthirstiness as her older brother), so I determined to let them have at it rather than overwhelm the poor man with my own contribution. 

I was standing at the sidelines while Kai explained what all he'd done to turn the weapons from near-joke to terrifying dealers of death, half listening and half thinking about what we could do next when Jasia tapped my arm and motioned me away from the demonstration. 

Once we were out of earshot, she turned and smiled. "That should keep them be preoccupied for a while." 

"I applaud your skills at orchestration," I said. 

"Thank you. Don't worry, I didn't do it for some terrible reason. I just wanted to get you alone for a few minutes and was hoping that would distract them. When Kai was a boy he was mad for the crossbow my brother gave him." 

"I am, as they say, at your disposal." I gave her a courtly half-bow with a little flourish. 

"May we walk? Your grounds are lovely." 

"Of course." We walked side by side into the gardens, following one of the meandering paths the landscapers meticulously maintained even though there was rarely anyone walking them. 

"I'm sorry Emil's been giving you such a bad time," she said. "He's trying to overcome a lifetime of seeing your country as everything that's corrupt and evil." 

"I understand. This isn't the first time I've had to defend my homeland despite there truly being things we've done that are indefensible.  Am I to take it, then, that you don't feel the same?" 

She gave a short laugh. "No, I'm not quite that nobly open-minded. I still have serious reservations about this place.  But I've been forced to confront some of my own prejudices this past year and it's left me far more willing to admit I might be wrong about other things." 

"You mean magic?" I kept my tone in the realm of polite interest, wondering how far she'd go in confessing how terrible she'd been to Kai. 

"Well, I'm not referring to finally admitting plaid is not a good wardrobe motif," she deadpanned, getting a surprised laugh out of me. "Has he told you about our…past?" 

"Enough," I said. He'd told me everything, but I didn't know if she'd like that. 

"Then you know I was terrible. It took me over twenty years to realize I shouldn't condemn something that's as natural to Kai — and you — as breathing. I'm still working at it. Emil's family is the pious one, but I hadn't realized how profoundly the Chantry has managed to worm its philosophy into every facet of our society. They've repeated their ugly views on mages to the point where most people unconsciously accepted it as fact, myself included. For a time I would have been happier if he'd turned out to be a murderer or— or married a Fereldan elf." 

I heroically refrained from mentioning that one of our best friends is, in fact, a Fereldan elf. Instead I asked, "What changed your mind?" 

She was silent for a few minutes. "Time. And, unfashionable as it may be to admit, I love my son. When he was locked in the Circle it was easy to…not think about it. Then he got out and I _had_ to think about it. I had to admit he'd given me no reason to think any of the awful things the Chantry said were true." She smiled. "Even when he was angry, he didn't do the dreadful things they said mages do. He just shouted and then went into the classic Trevelyan sulk." 

"He still does that on occasion," I said with a dramatic little eye-roll. 

She chuckled. "I somehow find that reassuring. At least some things never change. I won't bore you with the details of my coming to my senses, but when Kai disappeared on his trip and resurfaced leading the Inquisition, well, among many other things, the news we kept hearing continued to disprove the Chantry's claims about mages, and it didn't escape my attention that we weren't high on the list of people he wanted to contact. It hurt, but I couldn't blame him. So by the time he finally came for a real visit last year, I'd made up my mind getting to know my son was more important than what my social circle might think, or any nonsense of the Chantry's that was still cluttering up my mind." 

"I'm impressed. Many people can never bring themselves to unbend that far." 

"Which brings me," she shot me a sideways smile, "to why I wanted to pull you away from everyone." 

"And that would be?" 

"I wanted to thank you." 

"Thank me? Whatever for?" 

She stopped at a bench and indicated we should sit. "For making Kai happy. It's…something we weren't able to do. If the years after he left the Circle were any indication, it's something _no one_ else was able to do. The Chantry and the system and even I took that away from him, and you gave it back. So, thank you." 

I was about to protest that I wasn't the only factor in that, but stopped myself and simply said, "You're welcome. It was my pleasure." 

Her smile changed her face from intense to rather beautiful. 

"But he did the same for me," I continued. "Never in my wildest dreams did I expect my future would lie with a mage from the Free Marches." 

"Kai told us your decision to make your relationship with him public is dangerous up here." She didn't frame it as a question, but it was. 

"Up here, particularly among the Altus — you know what I mean by Altus?" 

She nodded. "I knew a bit and Kai explained more." 

"Then I won't go into lengthy explanations. As I was saying, relationships between two men are tolerated as long as you keep it quiet and for pleasure only, but we're all expected to do our duty to produce more and better mages." 

"So Kai said. Obviously a pairing that doesn't produce runs counter to that," she finished. 

"Indeed. Has he told you much about my situation?" 

"Enough. He would have been in the same situation at home had he not been a mage." 

"Except the level of outrage in Tevinter is on par with the levels most lands feel when, say, their most beloved ruler has been assassinated, the throne usurped, and a fleet of tax collectors have been sent out to collect payment for all the effort the murdering faction went to. We take our bloodlines very seriously." 

"And are you in danger now?" 

I gave her a wry smile. "No moreso than usual. We managed to weather the storm of outrage relatively unscathed. I won't lie to you, though — if Kai hadn't been a powerful mage in his own right, it might have gotten ugly." 

"Then I'm glad he is.” She gave a small laugh. “I assure you I never thought I'd be saying those words." 

I smiled then pretended a great thought had just struck me. "You know, it occurs to me — as I've got you alone here, I really should take advantage of you." 

She immediately grew guarded. "What do you mean by that?" 

I gave her my best impish grin. "I was thinking: considering you spent his first thirteen years with him, you must have some stories Kai would never tell me." 

Jasia laughed, her relief evident. "Well, now that you mention it..." 

~ _#_ ~ 

Sadly, none of Jasia's stories of young Kai were of the deliciously embarrassing variety. As he was a fairly well-behaved and even-tempered boy (and as is typical in noble households, much of his daily overseeing had been left to hired staff), the best she could produce was 'cute', though she told the stories well. 

We made our way back to find the demonstration just wrapping up. Kai didn't say anything, but did raise a questioning eyebrow to let me know he'd noticed. 

Emil was looking as happy as I'd ever seen him, which is to say he was smiling. "Fine, I admit there is something immensely satisfying about shooting something and watching it explode," he was saying. "That doesn't mean I think just anyone should be trusted with these things." 

"Of course not," Kai said. "If you had any idea the amount of work it took to get those powerful enough." 

"Thank your deity of choice that you don't know magical theory or he'd be getting technical in a few more moments," I said as I joined them. I draped an arm around Kai's waist, managing to sneak a proprietary ass-squeeze in that got me a quick look of startled pleasure. 

"Something Dorian never does," he said drily. 

"So what does everyone want to do now?" Danae asked. 

"I wouldn't mind something that involves shade," Emil said. "This heat of yours is getting to be more than I can handle." 

I saw Kai's mouth open and I knew he was going to say something like _It isn't our heat_ , so I spoke first. "Of course. We find the patio much more comfortable this time of day. Kai normally spends half the day hiding there when it's this hot." I steered Kai towards the house and the rest of them followed. 

Soon we were ensconced around the patio table with drinks and snacks. A bound spirit was providing a soft breeze that kept things comfortably cool. 

"I could get used to this," Jasia said. "Em, do you think we could commission something like this without some sort of backlash?" 

"Chantry'd have a cat if they got wind of it," he said laconically. 

"Why do you care what the Chantry thinks anymore?" Danae asked. 

"Because as Bann we still have to evince at least an outward show of fealty to them," Emil said with a slight scowl, "whether we like it or not. The people expect it. It's particularly true for us because they know about Kai. They want to know we still believe." 

"They know _what_ about Kai?" Kai demanded. 

"Just that you're a mage and you aren't part of any Circle. Your being Inquisitor helped your image with many of the people that have a problem with that, but not all of them. We have many people in Ostwick that are still devout and haven't changed their minds about mages or much else, especially once you get outside the city." 

"We've already been roundly criticized in some corners for years for not being sufficiently devout," Jasia added. "Not to mention the same people disapprove of our daughter studying up in Antiva instead of being properly married off by now. The Aunts have been particularly vocal about that to anyone who will listen the past few years." 

"Where do they get off saying anything?" Danae snapped. "And how do they know? I thought you stopped letting them come around when I was still little." 

"The Trevelyan family grapevine is vast and nigh-indestructible," Emil intoned. 

"And the Aunts are nosy old hyenas," Jasia said. "Aside from a few months where they believed Kai really was the Herald of Andraste, they've disapproved of us all for decades." 

Emil turned to me. "My sisters," he explained. "They discovered Andrasteism before they'd even started getting any formal schooling and have been out-Chantrying the Chantry ever since." 

"They didn't join the Chantry?" I'd wondered at that since Danae first told me about the Aunts. 

"There were alliances that needed cementing. They were both married off to politically advantageous men before they were twenty. Oddly enough, both husbands died young. My sisters moved back to Ostwick, moved in together and have fed each other's religious fervour ever since." Emil shook his head, frowning. 

"Are you saying they _murdered_ their husbands?" Danae asked with barely-concealed glee. 

"Probably pioused them to death," Kai said. 

Emil snort-laughed. "I don't doubt there's some truth to that. One husband fell ill when that epidemic of grippe tore through Ansberg back in oh-eight; people you'd think were healthy enough to fight it off were dropping like flies, and he was one of the unlucky ones. The other husband died in some sort of hunting accident. Denys — my younger brother — swears they died to get away from those two. Not that Denys had much better luck in the marriage department." 

"He and his wife can't stand each other," Danae said to me, "but somehow they managed to stomach each other long enough to have six children together." 

"Now that the children are grown, they both live in splendid solitude at opposite ends of their mansion," Jasia added. 

"Mine only managed to put aside their differences long enough to produce me," I said. Normally I would have added _of course, once you create perfection you try to top it at your own peril_ , but I was trying to curb some aspects of my witty repartee for Kai's sake. 

"So would all of nobility fall apart if there was an occasional marriage that _wasn't_ arranged?" Danae said crossly, no doubt thinking of her undertaker. 

"Very possibly," Email said gravely. 

"Well, you two always seemed to have been fond enough of each other, so on occasion it works," Kai said, a hint of questioning in his voice. 

"Easy for _you_ to say," Danae snarked. "You get to choose who you're with." 

"Considering you're twenty-seven and still unmarried, I'd say Mother and Father have tried to be freakishly accommodating," he said mildly. "I'm surprised they've gotten away with it this long." 

"We wouldn't have even ten years ago," Jasia said. "The mage rebellion didn't just change things for mages; it also weakened the Chantry enough that they pulled in on themselves and had to modify some of their more strong-arm tactics. Whereas before they would have been showing up disapprovingly on our doorstep every few months, now they send someone around just a few times a year." 

"Usually to suggest that we can donate more than our tithe," Emil said. 

I finally let curiosity get the better of me. "Excuse me, but from all I know of the relationship between the Chantry and the nobility in the south, aren't the two of you remarkably un-pious?" 

They gave nearly identical cynical smiles. "We've rather been driven to that over the years," Emil said. "For me, it began with my sisters. We were all expected to attend Chantry services as well as private instruction when I was young. The thing is, I fear I lacked whatever divine spark it is most people possess, because listening to the Sisters instruction and the Chant did absolutely nothing for me. I was simply bored. My sisters, on the other hand…well, you know. So not only did I have to parrot the appropriate amount of devotion or suffer the consequences, but my sisters were relentless in their fervour, to the point where even my very religious relatives found reasons to avoid them, though they praised their obvious devotion to Andraste." 

"My family was just never much interested in religious matters," Jasia said. "We went to Chantry when we were supposed to and learned the parts of the Chant we were expected to know, but really it was just the bare minimum we had to do for appearances. It must have worked, because when my parents were shopping around for matches for me, the Trevelyans were one of the families that expressed interest." 

"And the rest is, as they say, history?" I said. 

"Not at all." Emil chuckled. "My family really wanted to match me with a creature named Ninnia Leloup." 

"You can't be serious. No one is named that," Kai said. 

"She was, sadly, just as dreadful as her name would lead you to expect. But they'd also put feelers out to Jass's family, since they were somewhat more socially prominent that Ninnia's. Well, I met both of them and found Jass fascinating." 

"I was expecting someone like Em's sisters when they introduced us," Jasia said. "You can imagine my surprise when I discovered he not only knew what a joke was, but actually possessed a functioning sense of humour. After a few more very proper, supervised meetings we decided we'd never find a better match." 

"We therefore had to engineer it so Ninnia would either disappear or fall out of favour with my family, which we did. So you see, though our marriage was arranged, it was also something we arranged ourselves," Emil said. 

The look on Danae's face suggested she had absorbed every bit of that and was now formulating the best method to use it all against her parents to get her own way. 

Jasia's mien hardened. "After that, well, any remaining regard we may have had for the Chantry ended when they took Kai away." 

I don't think they noticed the slight shift in Kai's expression when he heard that, but I did. My amatus was gratified at those words and I couldn't blame him. 

"I told them what the Aunts did to me," Danae chimed in. 

"Oh, you know about that?" Emil looked surprised. "Well, that was the last straw. We haven't let them on the estate since, which infuriates them." 

"When it came out that Kai is a mage, the Aunts actually went so far as to say that if not they, then Denys should take over as Bann, since I'd obviously brought bad blood into the Trevelyan line," Jasia said. 

"I would love to show them the genealogies," Kai said with a smirk. 

"They wouldn't believe them," Danae said with finality. 

As I listened to them trade stories about the Dread Aunts, I had a surprising and rather unsettling epiphany of sorts: this was only the second time in my life I'd been with a family that honestly liked each other and had no hidden political agenda. Yes, they had a rocky history and some private schemes, but not of the vicious sort. 

The first time was when I was apprenticing with Gereon Alexius. For those first few years when his wife Livia was alive and Felix was well, I saw the same genuine affection between them, which made what happened later all the worse. In case you're unfamiliar with the story, the attack that killed Livia also gave Felix a terminal illness. Alexius became increasingly desperate to save Felix, corrupting himself and all his deeply held values as he pursued the impossible. At the end, Felix still died and his father was left a bitter, hollow shell of a man. 

I devoutly hoped nothing would happen to destroy Kai's family in that or any other manner; it had taken them many years to reach this point. 

They even seemed willing to accept me, something I'd not expected or honestly considered a possibility. I wasn't sure what to think or feel about that. A part of me was both pleased and unexpectedly touched. The other, cynical part that had been born and raised in the treacherous world of Altus machinations was scoffing at what a sentimental wet blanket I'd become when deep down I knew they were accepting me for Kai's sake and no other reason. I was willing to bet if you asked their friends and peers in Ostwick where they'd gone for this extended trip, the word Tevinter would cross no one's lips. 

**~~**


	95. Interlude (17) - Enzo

He lay flat in the long grass atop the low hill, propped on his elbows as he focused his spyglass on the little group on the distant patio. The middle-aged couple was there, along with a bald man dressed in black who had to be the tyrannical brother. He didn't see the brother's wife, but there was a dark-haired Vint man with a ridiculously curled moustache and typically overdone clothing who seemed to be with the brother. He supposed it was possible the man was in fact the Magister, which would at least mean the brother probably wasn't molesting Danae, because she was the last member of the party at the table. She didn't look upset or confined in any way, but she could be putting on a brave face. Stinking mages could keep you bound and captive without one visible shackle, after all. 

The fact that his love really was there gave him that boost he needed to see his plan through. Now he just needed to fashion that plan. Both the brother and the Vint maybe-Magister looked dangerous and cruel underneath the false smiles; he needed at all costs to avoid them and find Danae on her own. He didn't know who the couple were, but if they were friendly with the others he'd have to consider them enemies as well. They had that same mongrel look to them as the two men. _Probably slavers,_ he concluded. Perhaps they were negotiating to sell Danae, as she'd surely bring a pretty copper from some corrupt Magister looking to add to his harem. 

His blood boiled at the thought. 

He closed the spyglass and returned to his little camp to plan. He always planned better when he could play his mandolin (even if it was only his second-best). 

They weren't going to get away with this outrage. By Andraste herself, he swore he'd prevail.


	96. Interlude (18) - Nearby

The shaded back corner of the empty reflecting pool was no longer oddly clean. A collection of desiccated corpses had built up — mice and rats, groundhogs, songbirds, a stray cat, two feral dogs and a small cluster of mangy fennecs had been joined by a dracolisk that had escaped from a local ranch, a large owl, and the undisputed prize of the collection, the late Arrun Cervidus. 

It pulled old magic from unremembered chambers buried deep below the summer house, its consciousness becoming stronger and more focused as it gained structure from its repeated attempts to become that which its dominant aspect recalled. The blood from its latest, best acquisition — a young groundskeeper who'd braved the treacherous warren of discarded and abandoned items to investigate the dreadful smell — flowed up and into it as it muttered ancient words of power with its partially-formed vocal apparatus. It rose, a waxwork melting in reverse, taking on manform. It was rudimentary, ill-proportioned and without clearly defined features, but this time the shape held. It gave a hiss of triumph and opened muddy eyes to see its new world for the first time. 

It had form. It had ancient magic and alien thoughts. Its dominant aspect had a name it would take. It merely needed to finish forming itself to fit the template in its memories, something the body it was absorbing would facilitate. 

Then it would move from _becoming_ to _reclaiming._


	97. Late Night with Danae Trevelyan

I set my boots to the side and threw myself onto the bed with a groan. 

Dorian looked up from unlacing his own boots and smiled. "I second that emotion. Not that your parents are terrible people, but I see now why you've said these visits are exhausting." 

"Danae wants to go back into town tomorrow, which means she wants us to distract Mother and Father while she runs off to see whatshisname." 

"Tell her to invite him here." He went to work unbuckling some of the strappier bits of that day's outfit. 

"You honestly think she'd consider that?" I stretched and heard things popping and cracking. "Ow. Maker, that feels better. I’ve been tense all day for no good reason. Danae’s the one with something to worry about." 

"You can see she's trying to engineer a way to introduce him in a manner that will get them to approve. Point out to her that they can't explode properly with all of us watching." He hung that piece up neatly and moved on to the next. "Besides, we already invited Mae, so the more the merrier." 

"Was that for tomorrow? Is she coming?" 

"Yes and yes." That one came off more quickly. He hung up the belts and removed his shirt. "So we can't go into town. At least, not until Mae gets here." 

"Good. I'll go tell Danae while you finish." I levered myself back off the bed with another groan. 

"Is that noise something I can look forward to you making more as you get older?" Dorian studied himself in the mirror, frowning as he plucked a rogue hair from his right eyebrow. 

"What would you do if I say yes?" 

"Hm. I suppose I'd have to brush up on sound suppressing spells, depending on how often you do it." 

"That's your answer? For all you know I could be in great physical distress when I make that noise." 

He smirked. "I _did_ tell you years ago that I am not a nice man." 

"Hmph." I headed for the door, adding as I walked behind him, "Just for that—" I mussed his hair mercilessly and blew him a kiss as I exited the bedroom. 

-#- 

Danae answered her door a moment after I knocked, looking askance as she invited me in. Her room had a large sitting area at the front with a couple of overstuffed armchairs and a divan all upholstered in rich brown fabric that matched the primarily brown and gold décor. A fireplace that probably rarely saw any use took up one wall. Bracketing the window overlooking the grounds were two end tables with small, pretty sculptures of birds that were no doubt priceless. 

She dropped into an armchair and slouched there looking glum. "What's up?" 

"Did I come at a bad time? Is something wrong?" 

She grunted. "Nothing." 

"Nothing you want to tell me about, you mean." 

"What did you want, Kai?" If her inflection was any flatter it would have been two dimensional. 

I tried to ignore it and told her about Mae coming over "so we likely won't be going into the city." 

She snorted. "Of _course._ I should've known. Not that it matters. Though I still haven’t met her, I’m sure she's a wonderful, interesting person too." 

"As a matter of fact, she is," I said. 

"And another mage.” 

"She's a Magister. We’ve told you that. What’s your point?" 

Danae rolled her eyes. "My point? My _point_ is, because she's a friend of yours, Mother and Father will bend over backwards to be fair and see what she's like before passing judgement." 

This was starting to get annoying. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Please." She spat the word out. "Like you don't know anything you do they'll try to approve of." 

"I know no such thing and what is your fucking problem?" I snapped back. 

"It's _you_." She glared at me. 

"Me? What did _I_ do?" 

She sighed gustily. "That's part of the problem, isn't it. You haven't done anything but be _you_." 

I stared at her, baffled. "You know, if we're going to argue, you could at least let me know what we're arguing about." 

"There you go again, being _decent_." She stood and paced across the room to lean on the mantel. "Look, do you want a drink and I'll try and explain it to you?" 

"I suppose," I said cautiously. 

"Then why don't you do your magic bellpull thing and get someone to bring us something?" She wandered over to the window and pulled the curtain back. The big moon was nearly full, bathing the grounds in eerie beauty. 

Muttering _magic bellpull_ under my breath (though I have to admit I found that a little amusing), I summoned a servant. 

Danae stayed looking out the window until we got our drinks. I didn't try to entice her away; if she was like Father and me, it was better to let her sulk. 

Once the servant had come and gone, she sat back down. She still looked cross, but not like she wanted to kill me. 

"So, would you please tell me what I've done even though I haven't done anything?" I said. 

She shook her head. "You don't even see it. Neither do _they._ " 

"I assume you're talking about Mother and Father." 

"Give the man a prize. Of course I am. You don't get it, Kai. See, you get away with _everything_. You always have." 

I raised an eyebrow. "You were there, were you?" 

"I don't need to have been there to know." 

"You're not even making sense. I was only there until I was thirteen. How do you figure I've been 'getting away' with things since?" I was starting to get honestly annoyed with her. 

"Because Father and Mother don't ever ask anything of you. They're just happy if you want to see them, because you're _special_." 

I wrinkled my nose at her. "' _Special_ '? Isn't that usually a polite way to say feeble-minded?" 

"Stop being witty for a moment, would you?" 

I shrugged, not trusting myself to respond to that in a non-witty manner. 

She gave me a suspicious glare and continued, "Look, when you were a kid you were special because you were the only child — their clever first born son. Then they took you away right at that age where you were going to start being a snot, but they never _saw_ you at that stage of life. All _they_ have is memories of you being cute and clever, not spotty and obnoxious." 

I snort-laughed. "I’ll concede you have a point. I was never spotty, but the obnoxious part is true. That was a long time ago, Danae. I spent over twenty years barely seeing or talking to them, so how could I be fucking up your life now?" 

She made an impatient noise. "I already told you how what happened to you _loomed_ over everything. They barely ever talked about you, but you were always _there._ Then you got out and you were special _again._ They didn't know what to say to you and you're a mage which makes you all scary and exotic. So they didn't ask a thing of you. They just helped you out." 

"You're angry that they helped me?" 

" _No_. Of course not. I'm not an asshole. You're missing my _point_." 

"So far your point seems to be that our parents are excessively nice to me, which is pissing you off." I drank beer and glared at her. 

"No, it's the way you can do no wrong in their eyes," she snapped. 

That elicited a bark of laughter from me. "You didn't hear Father hollering at me about my moving to Tevinter." 

"I didn't say they never get upset with you, but there's no lasting consequences because _you are special_. Look, after you left Ostwick you did your whole world leader thing, that made you even _more_ special, _and_ they felt bad about whatever shite there was between you all, so the last thing they were gonna do was object to anything you wanted to do." 

"I was far too old for them to object. You're not exactly suffering, you know," I said a trifle testily. 

"That's not what this is about. This is about expectations. They lay _none_ on you. They never have. And don't tell me about some lecture you got when you were twelve." 

Since that had been what I was about to do, I kept my mouth shut and drank instead. 

"I mean, for instance, you're a mage. That had always been this bad, scary thing and now you've got Mother trying to _learn_ about it." 

"I didn't coerce her to do that. She was horrible about it for decades, you know," I said. 

"But she put up with it," Danae insisted. 

"There are things you don't know," I objected. "Besides, it's not like I can _not_ be a mage, so she had no choice but to put up with it."  
  
"The point is, they've been trying to change to accommodate _you_ because they care that much and you're the _special_ one. Same with Dorian." She put a hand up to stop me from saying anything. "Don't get me wrong, I love Dorian. But the fact is, neither you nor they thought for one second that you should run your choice of husband by them first. You just told them, and I'm sure Father made a few noises about it, but they accepted it. See, it's _okay_ that you're not attracted to women because neither is Oswin, and you're _special._ " 

I sighed. "This is getting old, Danae. I repeat, I was over thirty when everything you're complaining about happened. None of it is my fault, so all you're doing is making both of us feel bad. It hasn't been all beer and skittles for me but I have no intention of going into detail to convince you." 

She downed the rest of her drink and poured another from the pitcher the servant brought. "Oh, I know you've had a rough time. I saw your arm and the scars. But at least you landed on your feet. _Look_ at this place! It's gorgeous. Dorian's gorgeous. You even have the cutest pets ever. And everyone up here thinks you're wonderful for being a mage and you even _deserve_ it all." She glared at me. 

"Um. I'm sorry?" I ventured. I had no idea what she wanted to happen. 

She made an exasperated noise. "And see? On top of everything else, you're _nice._ And our parents are doing everything they can to have this great relationship with you because you're their special kid, and they love you to the point that— that no matter how upset he got with you, _Father_ is in _Tevinter_. Andraste's _tits_!" 

"There're also things going on up here you don't know about. But honestly, Danae, what good is it to get mad at me?" I said with infinite patience. 

"It isn't. You've been nothing but decent to me. But if I go yell at _them_ , they'll just call me childish." She looked both guilty and angry. I'd felt that particular combination before. 

"So if you admit I've not done anything to you, what are you really angry about? Is it your undertaker?" 

"No!" She paused. "Yes." She took a sip of her drink and studied the glass like she'd never seen one before. "Yes and no." 

I relaxed back in my chair, feeling like we were finally getting somewhere. "So what do you want? Telling me off for cleverly becoming a mage to avoid family responsibilities isn't going to accomplish anything." 

We heard a soft knock at the door. I gave her a questioning look and at her nod, opened it. It was Dorian, as I'd half-hoped, half-suspected. 

"Is this a private party or is there room for one more?" he asked. 

I turned to my sister. "Danae?" 

She gave us a funny little smile. "Oh, why not. Come in, Dorian. I was just raking poor Kai over the coals." 

"Do tell?" Dorian perched next to me on the broad arm of my overstuffed chair. "Did he deserve this raking? Are we having cocktails while the coals get back to proper temperature?" 

"No, I didn't," I said. 

"No he didn't, and help yourself. I don't know if you'll like it, though — it's an Antivan concoction. Maybe we should just get more brought in," she said. 

"You mean I've spurred an impromptu party?" Dorian said brightly. 

I said, "Danae?" again. 

She sighed and gave us a more genuine smile. "Yes, I suppose. Can I still talk?" 

"Are you still determined to be mad at me?" 

"I guess not," she said with a little smirk. "If I'm mad at you I'll make Dorian feel bad and I couldn't bear for that to happen." 

"Thanks," I said drily. 

"Clearly Danae has her heart and priorities in the right place," Dorian said. "I'm far too pretty to have unhappiness forced upon me." 

Once we'd gotten refreshments sorted out (I got a coffee along with my beer, deciding I didn’t care if it was weird) and made ourselves comfortable, I fixed Danae with a stern look. "Now, little sister, what is the _real_ problem that's had you thinking terrible things at me?" 

She sighed. "You were partly right. It does have to do with August." 

"Is _that_ his name?" Dorian asked. 

"Your undertaker?" I added. 

She chewed at her lower lip for a moment. "Yeah. That's him. August Vedrix. And I think I'm kind of crazy about him." 

"You've only known him, what? Not even two months?" I said skeptically. 

She skewered me with a look. "And how long did you know Dorian before you knew?" 

I smiled in concession. "About twenty minutes. But we were busy fighting Fade demons for part of that." 

"Mind you, I'm unusually irresistible," Dorian said. 

"It took him much longer to decide I was worthy of his affections." 

"Mm. At least twenty-two minutes." He gave me a lazy smile. 

"You didn't let on to me for a damn sight longer than that," I complained. 

"I was thinking of _you_. You already had enough people fawning about you. Had I indicated too quickly that I was interested it might have gone straight to your head. Not to mention the scandal of it all." 

"Yes, but you live for scandal and I couldn't give a fuck," I countered. 

" _Guys_ ," Danae interjected, "We're talking about _me_ here, remember?" 

"Sorry," I said. "We can continue that discussion later. So you're mad about August. And?" 

"Allow me," Dorian said. "And there is no way that your parents will tolerate your taking up with a Vint who isn't even of the nobility, no matter how accommodating they're being to Kai and me." 

"You _are_ more than just a pretty face," Danae said. "That's it in a nutshell. They're bending over backwards to make things right with Kai, but you just watch what happens if I tell them what I want. Father's already barely tolerating Tevinter as it is." 

"Why didn't you just say that rather than ripping me to shreds?" I demanded. "You think I wouldn't sympathise?" 

She slouched lower in her armchair, took a slug of her drink and set the glass down with a _clunk_. "I'm sorry, Kai. You just caught me at a bad time. I was thinking too much." 

"A treacherous undertaking, to be sure," Dorian said sagely. "I'm not overly familiar with sibling dynamics, but would this be a case of 'why does _he_ get to do whatever he wants'?" 

"I didn't think we'd ever developed much of a sibling dynamic, but yes," I said. "Mind you, I understand. It's one thing if _I_ do something mad like move to Tevinter to be with my magister lover, but Danae's supposed to be the _normal_ one." 

"For Ostwick, they're very open-minded, but that doesn't mean they don't have limits," Danae said. "Father takes being Bann very seriously. He's given me a lot of extra time — probably because of what happened with Kai and everything — but he takes my taking over as Bann very seriously too." 

"What if August came back with you?" I said. 

"Kai, not only is he Tevinter, he's an _undertaker_ ," she said as she poured herself another drink. "They'd never go for it." 

"Does anyone in Ostwick have to know he's an undertaker?" Dorian asked. "Considering how likely it is anyone will check, you could make up any background you wish out of whole cloth." 

"I thought of that but…he's still a Vint. No offense, but that's how everyone in Ostwick thinks." 

"I did spend some years in the South, you know. I'm aware of the default reaction to my homeland," Dorian said. 

"So make something sexy up about how you met him. Make them think he's a _good_ Vint," I suggested. 

"But when it comes to that, you _are_ a problem, oh brother of mine," she said. 

" _Now_ what did I do?" 

"They know Dorian's Tevinter. Your friend's book saw to that, and since then, the parents' friends met you and, well, you know how word gets around. Now just imagine the reaction if I take up with a Vint too." 

"Ah. You have a very good point." No way would the good folk of Ostwick be okay with that.

“And really,” she continued, “even if he’d single-handedly saved Thedas from certain annihilation, to some people in Ostwick, a Vint is a Vint is a Vint, you know?” 

"What if he was from Hasmal?" Dorian said. 

"Then he'd know something about Hasmal?" Danae said sourly. 

"That could be arranged. My point is, Hasmal is about the closest to Tevinter you can get in the Free Marches while still living somewhere relatively civilized." 

"So if he were to live there for a while," I said. 

"Exactly!" Dorian grinned. "You'd even have an excuse for why you happened to be in Hasmal, given your brother has a house there. I suspect word has not gotten around Ostwick that he no longer lives there." 

"The house _is_ empty again," I said. 

"We also have friends there who would be willing to help him," Dorian added. 

"I'll get in touch with Mikal," I said. "That is, if there's any need. We should probably let Danae and August decide that." 

"Thank you for remembering I exist," Danae said, but she had a small smile now. "You really think that would work? I mean, if August wanted to?" 

"I don't see why not," I said. 

Dorian looked from me to Danae with round-eyed glee. "Oh my, are we plotting now? I haven't been in on a good familial plot in years. I don't suppose we could work in at least one wardrobe change for narrative purposes?" 

"I'm sure we can arrange something," I said with an indulgent smile. 

"But no matter what we do, August sounds Tevinter," Danae said worriedly. 

"His parents were Tevinter," Dorian supplied. "They left and settled in Hasmal before he was born because they wanted their child to grow up in a more wholesome environment. Given that he's Soporati, people would believe that." 

"So he kept a bit of the accent?" I asked. "I suppose that'd work, if he tried to throw a little more Marches into it while he's in Hasmal." 

"I'd have to run it by him," Danae said. "Now I _really_ need to go into town tomorrow." 

"Go ahead. We'll entertain the parents," I said. "That way if you do bring him over, they won't have time to find reasons to dislike him before they have to pretend to be nice to him." 

I fetched a sending crystal to loan her so she could let us know if her undertaker — ahem, August — was going to come to dinner and/or go along with our mad plot. We showed her how to use it, then spent a while longer drinking and plotting before Dorian and I returned to our room.

_=#=_

I breathed a sigh of relief as Dorian locked the door. 

"Sorry about that. I had no idea that was going to happen." I pulled off my shirt and tossed it on a nearby chair. 

"I must say, amatus, much as I like your family, they're getting in the way of _our_ spending any time together. I find myself feeling more and more like saying inappropriately clever things. I haven't been on my best behaviour this long at one go since I first joined the Inquisition." 

"Well, maybe it's about time you misbehave," I suggested. 

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to be encouraging that?" 

I watched appreciatively as he started to slide his own shirt off. His eyes met mine and he gave me a sultry smile, prolonging the show with slow, graceful precision. His skin was golden in the warm light, highlighting the play of smooth muscle as he removed the shirt and dropped it on top of the dresser behind him. 

I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around him. He responded in kind, running his hands up my back then using his nails on the way down until he settled his embrace around my waist. I made an appreciative noise. 

"You know we should get some sleep," he said. "Big day tomorrow, entertaining your parents and all." 

"I'm sure they can amuse themselves if we happen to sleep in. Perhaps Lucien can regale them with tales of the indignities various Pavuses have visited upon this house over the years. I'm sure he has them catalogued." 

"Are you being catty? Shame on you," he said, smirking. He slid his hands around to the front and began undoing my trousers. 

"Not at all. I'm convinced he does. He'll probably never forgive me for the nug in the top hat." I dropped my own hands to his buttocks. He finished what he was doing and I pulled him closer. 

"Mnh. As long as he doesn't _see_ the nug he's fine." We kissed for a time. I ran my hands along his back, casting a small, persistent electricity spell that made him shiver and arch into me. 

He took a step back, slid his hands down to my hips and smiled. "Mm. I see there are things I can raise without necromancy." 

"Very funny." I applied a little more power to my spell this time, trailing my fingers down his chest and abdomen, making him gasp. He looked at me through half-closed eyes as I turned my attention to the fastenings on his trousers. 

"Did you know you're managing to channel at least some of your spell through your left hand?" 

I glanced up in surprise. "Really? You could feel it?" 

"Much more muted than the right hand, but yes. I didn't expect that." 

"Neither did I." I finished with the last stubborn fastening and took a moment to admire the results of my handiwork. "That's much better. You know, I wasn't even thinking about it; I was just casting." 

"Really? We'll have to look into that, see if you're somehow adapting your power to accommodate the arm. But…not right now." He stroked a hand up me teasingly, applying a little extra heat before returning it to the small of my back. "Now, shall we see how much we can fit into the limited amount of time we're afforded before we have to rest up for tomorrow's whirlwind of excitement?" 

" _How much we can fit in_? You do have a way with words." 

He channelled electricity through his own hands, making me gasp just as he had. "That's not the only thing I have a way with." 

"Not if I have my way first." 

"If we're very efficient, we could have both our ways." He slid his hands down my thighs, taking my trousers with them. 

As the trousers were an inefficient impediment, I pulled away long enough to remove them. Dorian did the same with his. 

"Well, let's see how efficient we can be."


	98. Interlude (19) - Enzo

_He'd seen her._

He'd been circling the perimeter of the huge house as closely as he dared when a hint of movement made him stop. Curtains parted, and there she was, framed in one of the big, arched windows. She was lit by some sort of baleful magic light that didn't flicker like honest lamplight. She looked sad and angry and upset and it was all he could do to restrain himself from running up to the window to let her know he was there for her. 

He skulked hurriedly back to his camp, sat down on the battered wooden chair he'd scavenged from an anomalous heap of deadfall and old furniture a few days ago and picked up his (second best) mandolin. He had to think. Danae _needed_ him. He strummed the first few chords of the _Ballad of Ayesleigh,_ the familiar notes calming him as he replayed those moments in his mind. It had taken him far too long to fumble his spyglass out of its case, so he'd only been able to get a good look at her face for seconds before she drew the curtains closed. He wasn't imagining the anger and upset in her expression. Vexingly, he was still faced with the same problem: how to get close enough let her know he was there and spirit her away before the mongrels who had her captive had any idea they'd been invaded. 

A shadow flowed over him and stopped, blocking the moonlight and making it difficult to see what he was doing. He looked up, half annoyed and half worried it might be an angry groundskeeper. It was a tall, thin man, his features made indistinct by shadow. He was dressed in ill-fitting, mismatched clothing. Enzo wondered if he was some sort of Vint vagabond, but said with politeness only slightly tinged with irritation, "Well met, sirrah. Is there something I can help you with?" 

"I am…in need of aid," the man said. His voice was oddly high yet guttural. "I was. Accosted. Of brigands. I must  home be going." 

"That's too bad, old man," Enzo said with just the barest attempt at sounding sympathetic. "Where's home?" 

The man pointed down the hill to the estate. "There."


	99. In Which Plans Are Made

We did sleep late, but my parents appeared unruffled when we finally emerged onto the back patio shortly before morning became afternoon. They were drinking tall glasses of juice, and Father was leafing through a slim circular Lucien must have brought him. Mother was petting a self-satisfied looking Ferox, who'd parked himself on her lap and was purring loudly.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," I said. Swivet came trotting up to me with an urgent squeak that I took to mean he disliked the cat getting more attention than him, so I crouched down to fuss over him. 

"Quite all right," Father said. "Your pets and Lucien kept us entertained. What's on the agenda for today?" 

"Anything you like," I said. 

"We thought we might have a few people over tonight," Dorian added, nodding thanks to the servant who appeared with a tray of coffee and teas for everyone. 

"Just a simple dinner party," I said, giving my parents a narrow look. On my last visit, they'd sprung one of those on me with 'only' eight of their closest friends invited. 

"Going to have us meet the Magisterium?" Father said drily. 

I laughed as I sat next to Dorian. "Nothing so grand. Just a few people." Swivet pawed at my knee, giving me his sad and abandoned look. "You are really too big for that." 

He squeaked a small, lost sort of squeak. 

"Oh, all right." I relented just like he knew I would, and hauled him onto my lap, wincing as he trod on things that didn't like getting trod on while making himself comfortable. 

"One of them is a magister," Dorian was saying, "but don't hold it against her. She's a close friend and quite delightful, I assure you." 

"He's right. You'll love Mae," I said. "If you don't I'll suspect you are deeply disturbed people." 

"Who's the other?" Mother asked. 

"A friend of Danae's. She's in town right now seeing if he's available." 

Father raised an eyebrow. "He?" 

I shrugged. "We've never met him. I'm afraid I can't tell you much." I thought they might have more questions anyway, but it seemed Mother had other things on her mind. 

"You know, Kai, seeing as we're not going to be here come Harvestmere, I was thinking we really should do something for your birthday while we're here." 

Dorian grinned. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. After all, it's quite a momentous one." 

I glared at him. "I don't see what's so momentous about turning forty." 

"Well, I wouldn't know personally, being that I'm years away from that, but they say it's a waypost." He smoothed his moustache with youthful complacency. 

I gave a disparaging snort and Swivet looked up at me with a small trill. "It's nothing," I told him, scratching his favourite spot between his ears. 

"I didn't notice anything particularly outstanding about turning forty," Father said. "Got a couple of silly over-the-hill joke gifts, but that's it." 

"My sister Emmaline acted like it was the end of the world. Took to her bed for a fortnight," Mother said. 

That got everyone off on a tangent as she told some of her better Emmaline stories and I hoped they'd forget about the early birthday celebration. 

We passed the rest of the afternoon doing not much of anything (I believe the accepted term is 'visiting'). We took my parents down to the stretch of coastline that belongs to Dorian's family and though no one did anything as adventurous as swimming, they agreed it was quite nice. I noted that as time went on, Father wasn't spending as much energy on watching everything suspiciously, as if something evil was going to jump out from behind the closest cover at any given moment. 

Dorian had, as he predicted, charmed my mother completely. I think she was more comfortable talking to him than me, but I really didn't mind. 

I found it interesting that with Father he kept a very light sheen of formality — not anything you'd notice if you didn't know him well, but he toned down his jokes and tendency toward flamboyance  just a little. I hadn't asked him to, but thought he was reading Father correctly. Had we been in the Free Marches there wouldn't have been a reason, but Father's dislike of Tevinter was a deeply-ingrained thing and I knew Dorian wanted that to change. 

As evening and dinnertime drew near, one of the servants delivered a small note that I had a call waiting on one of the sending crystals. 

I excused myself and shut the workroom door behind me as I said, "Hello, are you there?" 

"KAI? IS THAT YOU?" It was Danae, but she, like Sera, seemed to feel the crystal wouldn't be able to pick up a normal tone of voice. 

"Yes, it's me and you needn't shout." 

"YOU CAN HEAR ME?" 

"Danae, half of Qarinus can probably hear you. Just talk normally, please. What's happening?" 

"I'M IN- I mean, I'm in the city still. Are you sure you can hear me? It's really loud here." 

"I'm _sure._ You'll note I haven't been shouting back at you." 

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. August wants to know how they work." 

"Magic. Now what's happening? Are you both coming back?" 

"Yes. Both of us. Are they in a good mood?" 

"I think they are. Father actually made a few jokes to Dorian today; I consider that a breakthrough." 

"Good. Well, keep them happy, would you? When's dinner?" 

"Mae should be here within half an hour then we'll have drinks first. So you'd best get your arses in that coach and get back here." 

"August still doesn't believe we're going to be eating dinner with Magisters." 

"Where does he think he's going?" 

"I don't know. He refuses to believe I'm not having him on." 

"You have told him where you've been staying this whole time." 

"I think he thinks I'm misunderstanding something. He seems to think magisters inhabit a completely different plane of existence." 

I laughed. "Well, quite a few of them do. Does this mean he's going to make a fool of himself when he realizes Dorian and Mae are exactly what you said they are?" 

"I hope not, but I thought I should warn you. I've been told repeatedly that mages and non-mages don't associate with each other as equals and magisters don't even associate with other mages as a rule, so I can't be correct in what I've told him." 

"I'm sure that's mostly been true. The Lucerni still have a ways to go. In any case, you'd best get back here. Lucien and the kitchen will both have fits if you bugger up the meal." 

"Perish the thought. We're going now. How do I turn this thing off again?" 

I told her and admonished her not to lose it before deactivating my own crystal, let Lucien know the other guest was definitely going to be there, and rejoined everyone on the patio.


	100. Interlude (20) - Enzo and the Vagabond

"I'm just saying if you want to get in, you can't go down dressed like that," Enzo said for the fifth time. 

"Why not?" 

"I _told_ you. Even for a Vint you look disreputable. They're _mages_ down there. They could fire your backside halfway to Antiva City if they wanted." 

"I am a mage also." 

"Sure you are," Enzo said, bending down to rummage through his travel bag. He hated Vints, but if this one could get him in that house, he'd put up with the creepy bastard. "But right now you're a mage dressed like a mad hobo. You're too skinny to fit in anything I have but-" 

"Is this better?" 

Enzo glanced up and stood gaping stupidly. The creepy Vint had somehow changed his shape. He was now of similar height and build to Enzo himself. "Maker's breath! You really are a mage," he finally mumbled. 

The Vint just looked at him expectantly. 

"Yes, it's better." He sighed, wishing there was another way. "I suppose we'd better see if any of my things will fit you now."


	101. Enter August

It had gotten chilly for once as the sun set, so we'd moved inside to the back living room that let out on the patio. Mae had arrived shortly after that and charmed my parents with her sheer force of personality, I think. We'd gotten drinks and sat around talking while we waited for Danae and August or dinner, whichever arrived first. 

The conversation had wandered into politics as my parents caught us up on the latest out of the Free Marches and Ferelden; I was just as glad they got interrupted before talk turned to Tevinter. 

"Domina Danae and a guest," Lucien announced, preceding them into the room then standing to one side so they could enter. 

I'm afraid all of us stared; my parents because they had no idea who this guest of hers was, and Dorian, Mae and I because we'd been speculating about what the mysterious August looked like. 

August appeared to be in his early thirties. He was tall — not freakishly so, but taller than me by a good handsbreadth at least — and toward the slender side of an average build. He had dark hair (in the lighting I couldn't really tell if it was black or dark brown), close-cropped but longer on the top, I assume because it was receding into what was becoming a pronounced widow's peak. He also had a beard, close-cropped until it got to the chin, where he'd allowed it to grow out some. His eyes were deep brown and striking beneath even, dark brows, nose straight, and his ears were on the small side and stuck out a bit. All in all he was better-looking than I'd expected an undertaker to be. At the moment he was doing his best to look pleasant and not nervous at all, and mostly succeeding. 

Danae, on the other hand, was blotchy with what I took to be nerves and perhaps a fortifying drink or two. She gave a funny little half-wave and said, "Hi, everyone. Um. This is August. Vedrix. August Vedrix. Um, August, these are my parents." 

She waved a hand in their general direction. Mother said hello, Father just nodded. 

"This is Magister Tilani," Danae continued, indicating Mae. 

Mae smiled and said, "Just Mae is fine, darling. I'm Magister Tilani in Minrathous. Or when my favourite restaurant says they have no seats." 

As August grinned, Danae gestured at me. "And this is my brother Kai and his amatus Dorian. Um, Magister Pavus." 

I nodded hello as Dorian said, "If Mae can be Just Mae, I think I'll continue to be Dorian. Please, have a seat." 

A servant who'd been summoned while the introductions were going on took their drink orders and smoothly exited. 

August looked a little overwhelmed but was handling it well. Undertaker training, I imagined. 

"Kai's a mage too," Danae was explaining to him, "but he's not a magister 'cause, you know, not from Tevinter. But he's powerful enough to be. But the rest of us are just normal. Or, well, you know. Not mages." 

"Soporati," August said without rancor. He took the drink the servant offered with a word of thanks and sipped it. "Forgive me if I seem at all tongue tied. I've never met a magister before, let alone two." 

"Well, we don't bite. Much." Mae gave him a wolfish grin. 

"Speak for yourself, darling," Dorian said. 

"So August," Father said in that businessy tone he gets when he's about to be annoying, "what is it that you do? Danae's not told us much." 

"Father, couldn't that wait until at least after dinner?" Danae demanded. 

"It's all right," August told her then looked Father in the eyes with a faint smile. "I'm an undertaker. It's a profession my family's been in for years. If nothing else, it has guaranteed job security." 

Father's eyebrows rose and, to I think everyone's shock, he smiled. "Really? A fine profession, that. I was concerned Danae'd found herself another of those smarmy artist types she's always been so fond of." 

Blushing madly, Danae yelped, " _Father!"_

He gave her a bland look and drank his cocktail.


	102. Interlude (21) - Enzo

"Maker's breath!" Enzo paced in agitated circles around his little camp. "She was _out._ I could have _rescued_ her but _you_ were distracting me!" 

His accidental partner remained expressionless. He was sitting in Enzo's only chair, chewing methodically as he practiced eating a bun that was only a few days old. 

Enzo had been so busy dealing with him, he'd neglected his spying duties most of the day and hadn't noticed Danae's departure that morning. Only when the coach came clattering back did he think to sneak out to his vantage point and use his spyglass. When Danae had stepped out of the coach accompanied by yet another brutish mongrel of a Vint he'd nearly dropped the spyglass. Yes, he was sure she'd been watched and escorted every moment she was away from the magister's compound, but the brother and his gang of Vint scum weren't with her. 

His mind reeled as he tried to imagine what they'd been doing. Forcing her to provide services to this new Vint? Or, considering the imposing-looking blonde woman who'd shown up earlier, perhaps they were going to auction his love off to the highest bidder tonight. "I'm sure she'd be prime fodder for one of their blood magic rituals," he muttered out loud. 

That got his partner's attention. "They have blood sacrifices down there?" he said a trifle mushily. 

"I assume so," Enzo snapped. "If not, I'm sure they're working toward it as we speak." 

"Good. It has been long. When do we go?" 

"When I say," Enzo said, exhaling loudly. "We can't just knock on the front door, you know." 

"Why not?" 

That brought Enzo up short. He wasn't sure what his strange companion was, but he certainly had some sort of magic of his own. He'd probably be a spectacular distraction. 

_Why not indeed?_


	103. A Course Undertaken / Angst

I don't know why I was surprised, but it turned out the undertaking business generated quite a few humorous tales; very dark humour, most of them, but still. It could be the way August told them that made them as funny as they were — August was another natural storyteller. He was also well-educated, well-read and personable. He told us when he wasn't undertaking he liked building articulated toys and he played the organistrum in a local musical group ( _well, another friend and I,_ he clarified — apparently the organistrum took two people to operate). I could see why Danae liked him so much, but wondered if she was asking too much, thinking he might leave Qarinus where he had a perfectly nice life happening. 

Now that Father had gotten over his prejudices at least enough that he could hold a conversation without slipping disparaging remarks about Tevinter into every other sentence, the evening went by swiftly and enjoyably. As it closed in on midnight, my parents excused themselves, claiming fatigue. The rest of us bid them goodnight and moved to the games room. 

We got drinks and sat around talking rather than starting a game of anything. Swivet tried to persuade me to let him park himself on my lap again, but I had my arm draped around Dorian, who was lounging against me with his feet up on the couch. When Swivet saw I wasn't about to budge, he cuted his way up next to Mae, using her thigh as a pillow so she could scratch his favourite spot between his ears whenever she felt inclined. 

Danae parked herself against August in a near mirror to Dorian's position. It was all very cozy. 

"That all went rather well, I think," I said. 

"Better than I expected," August agreed. 

"What did you expect?" Mae asked. 

"That Emil was going to want me to join my clients," he said with a smile. 

"I had no idea he held undertakers in such high regard," I said. 

"Perhaps you should have told him I'm a necromancer before you told him I'm a magister," Dorian said. 

"I don't know that he'd be quite so pleased that you're friendly with the spirits of the dead, let alone that you can raise them." 

"Is this some kind of strange Trevelyan quirk?" Mae said with a smirk. "Kai picks a necromancer and Danae picks an undertaker?" 

"It does sound rather ghoulish when you put it like that," Dorian said with a chuckle. 

Danae sighed. "At least you two get to stay together." 

"Do we have to talk about that right now?" August said mildly. 

"Well…yes." She twisted around to look at him. "We kind of talked about it and came up with an idea, but I don't know that you'd be okay with it. Not that you'd have to decide right now, but I _know_ there's no way I'm going to get to stay here too much longer, and not just because I'm probably wearing out my welcome here." 

"You mean because your father wants you to take over as — what do you call it? — Bann?" 

"Yeah. You know how we've talked about how no one would ever accept a Tevinter being married to their Bann?  Well, we maybe found a workaround to that. I'll tell you before we go to sleep." 

The mere mention of sleep seemed to set everyone yawning, and it wasn't long before we decided to call it a night.  As Mae went to her usual guest room, I was amused to see Swivet following her. He'd apparently decided with Dorian and I paying undue attention to each other, she was his best alternative. 

We went to our own room. As I climbed into bed, Dorian looked at me appraisingly. 

"Well? What's wrong?" 

I blinked at him. "What do you mean?" 

He joined me, saying, "I know you, amatus. Something's bothering you." 

I rubbed my eyes. "I dunno. I keep feeling like something horrible's going to happen. I expect it's because this visit's going too well." 

He smiled. "What do you imagine is going to happen? Lucien will discover one of your parents didn't use a coaster?" 

"I know it's ridiculous. I just keep expecting an explosion of some sort," I fretted. 

"I understand. Come here, you." 

I slid closer and he put his arms around me. I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed a sigh that was partially annoyance with myself and partially contentment. He felt warm and solid and _there_. 

"Now what is it you imagine is going to happen?" he asked. 

"I don't know. My parents will bring in a squad of guards they've had stuffed in their luggage to haul Danae back to Ostwick with them? The Archon will show up at the door wanting to experience an Avvar-style outdoor cookout? Lucien will say something to embarrass me in front of everyone?" I slid my left leg over his right. 

He shifted to accommodate me and chuckled. "Are you sure you're not just worried about your mother making good on the threat of throwing you a birthday celebration?" 

"Ugh. Probably. All in all I'd rather have the Archon show up." 

"No you wouldn't. Then you'd have to compliment his hat." 

I laughed. "Think he'll ever want to meet with me? Is that something I need to worry about?" 

"Well, you _are_ a provisionary citizen now. I suppose it's a possibility if he gets curious enough about you." 

"That's all I need. Radonis himself showing up at the door to give me my citizenship papers with Father sitting a few feet away." 

"You know very well he'd delegate that to Alectius." 

"Mm. Just imagining worst-case scenarios." 

"Well, stop it, would you? Nothing's going to happen except you may have to put up with being teased about turning forty." 

"You do like to keep harping on that." 

"You're welcome to come up with a way to shut me up." 

So I twisted in his arms and kissed him. He shut up most satisfactorily.


	104. Interlude (22) - Enzo's Camp

It sat in the dark while the human slept. It didn't fidget or yawn or get up to stretch its legs, though it did adjust its eyes so it could see. 

_What are you?_ the human had asked. It searched its fragmented memory for an answer. Some of what comprised its essence had once lived in the sprawling manor below, though it seemed to remember a different sort of dwelling there. Some of it was much older, and remembered a time before the Veil when waking and dream were not separate things and magic was not thought of as magic because it was the norm. 

_I am magic._ It was sure of that. It gestured with one hand and watched little ripples and fractures in space/time spread with its will. It looked at that hand, pulled power from beyond the Veil and lengthened its fingers. It sharpened the nails into points but kept them short and thick and difficult to break. 

_I am ancient._ Even its memories of living in this place were from a time long past. There were things it had done then that it wished to do again, though it did not know why. The things might have been important or it might have just enjoyed them. It did not care which. 

_I am hungry._


	105. An Audacious Proposal

Someone was knocking insistently on our bedroom door. I burrowed deeper under the covers and tried to ignore it. Next to me, Dorian groaned and shouted, " _Go away_." 

The knocking continued. 

"I don't guess you want to get up and see what's so cursed important," he said, giving me a soft nudge. 

"My arm's not on," I mumbled. 

Dorian made an irritated noise and I felt a sudden blast of coldish air as he got up. Some moments later I heard the door open and my sister's voice. 

"I'm sorry, I know it's early, but we need to talk to you guys before we see my parents." 

"You will. Now go away." The door closed decisively and a moment after another blast of air signalled Dorian's return. He got into bed and cuddled up against me. "If she does that again I may have to kill her." 

I opened my eyes a crack. "You have my blessing." 

We went back to sleep. 

When we finally got up I yawned, stretched and crawled out of bed to attach my arm. "Was I having a vivid dream or did my sister try to get us up at some obscene hour to talk?" 

"You were not dreaming," Dorian said as he rubbed his eyes, blankets pooled around his waist. "Do you think she's still waiting in the sitting room?" 

"Serves her right if she is." I cast the spell to alert the staff to my urgent need for coffee. 

It took us close to a half hour to get sorted out and emerge from the bedroom. Danae _was_ waiting in the adjoining sitting room along with August. They were both asleep on the couch; Danae was snoring softly. 

I took a sip of coffee and contemplated them. "They look so peaceful. Is it wrong of me to want to set off a flashbang right over their heads?" 

"We don't know that August had anything to do with that rude attempt to force us awake," Dorian said as he commandeered an armchair. He took a healthy swallow of his own coffee. 

"You're right. Must be fair about these things." I took the chair next to his, set my coffee down and fired a small, precise bolt of electricity at my sleeping sister. 

She sat (if you'll pardon the pun) bolt upright, yelping, "Andraste's tits, what the _fuck_?" 

"Don't needlessly wake sleeping mages," I said. "Even if you survive the experience at the time, just remember we can and will get revenge." 

August had awakened when Danae yelped and was now blinking owlishly as she glared at me. 

"That was an asshole thing to do, Kai." 

"You made Dorian get out of bed. What would possess you to even _think_ about waking us up like that?" 

She looked from Dorian to me and her outrage wilted into contrition. "I'm sorry. We were excited." 

Ferox came out from some mysterious place that only cats know and hopped up on Dorian's lap, purring loudly. Dorian stroked him reflexively as he said, "I'm sure that's very nice, but you've been here long enough to know Kai in particular is only to be awakened if there is a direct attack upon your life or limb happening. I am more understanding and will also accept being awakened if there are urgent messages from top levels of government or if something is trying to damage my wardrobe." 

"I told you we should wait," August said muzzily. "Now my neck hurts from sleeping like that. Is that coffee I smell?" 

"It is. Do you want some?" Dorian said. At August's nod, he cast the spell that alerted the staff to an urgent need for more coffee. 

"So what was worth all this grief?" I said around another yawn that made my eyes water. 

"August agreed, so we need your help," Danae said with a wide smile. 

"Huh?" I have to admit, I didn't immediately remember what she was on about. 

"Your idea about him living in Hasmal for a while so people won't think he's Tevinter," she said. "You _know_ the parents are going to object the first time they hear the idea, so you need to help us." 

"Oh. Right. What makes you think they'll listen to us?" 

"Because you're both smart, charming, personable and they want to make you happy," she said. "You're also remarkably persuasive." 

"And you are laying it on _thick_ ," I said. "Are you sure about this, August? It's quite a paradigm shift, going from here to Hasmal, let alone Ostwick." 

"I'll say it is," Dorian added. 

"I'm as sure as I can be without having been there," August said. "With all due respect, I'm also Soporati, so I don't think I'll have the same trouble adjusting that you would. Danae said even you like Hasmal." 

"It's definitely my favourite city in the south," I admitted. "But it's still quite different in some ways from anything you've seen up here. I don't know — maybe you'll like it." 

"You're all right with giving up your career here?" Dorian asked. 

"I'm sure we'll find a way that I can occupy myself," August said with a slight smile. 

“Perhaps Hasmal needs a good organistrum player,” Dorian said.

“Or a good undertaker,” I added. “I imagine it’ll take more than a few months before you can brave Ostwick.”

“You think the good people of Ostwick would accept their Bann marrying a _Hasmal_ undertaker?” August said.

“If he’s got noble blood, they will,” Danae said confidently. 

The servant appeared with more coffee and we paused to get that sorted out. 

"You do know Ostwick's quite a bit different from Hasmal, don't you?" I said. 

"But I'll be Bann," Danae said. "It'll be nothing like what you remember." 

"Ostwick's still going to expect you to behave with a certain degree of tradition and propriety," I countered. 

"I know. So we'll go to Chantry services on high holidays and dress nicely for official functions." 

"You do know even with my persuasive powers and Dorian's charm, they still might object to the plan." 

Danae glared at me. "Andraste's tits, Kai, why are you being such a wet blanket?" 

"Because parents are not always reasonable creatures," Dorian said. "Believe me, I speak from experience. Won't yours have an opinion about all this, August?" 

He smiled tightly. "I'm sure they will. One hurdle at a time, though." 

"I suppose you could continue your profession in Ostwick," I mused. "I doubt anyone's ever had a Bann whose spouse can also conduct a snappy funeral." 

"Something reliable to fall back on in case the coffers ever run dry," Dorian added. 

"You two are awful," Danae stated. 

"Are they being awful without me?" came Mae's voice. A moment later she swept into the room, resplendent in a shimmery, red-gold dressing gown belted over a set of scandalously blood-red silk pyjamas. "You could have at least waited until I put myself together. Is that coffee I see? Hi, Kai." 

I said, "Hey, Mae," with a grin, completing our ritual greeting. 

"And good morning to the rest of you too." She put a dollop of cream in her coffee, stirred it and took a seat in the remaining armchair. "Is this a regular thing for you all? Cozy little morning chats over coffee and cats? It seems terrifyingly domestic." 

"No, normally you'd just see me bravely suffering Kai's sarcasm as he awaits his morning coffee." Dorian adopted an expression of long suffering. 

"That only happens if you make me talk," I said. 

"See? He doesn't even deny it." 

"Well, as long as you never run out of coffee you have nothing to worry about," Mae said. 

We discussed some of the particulars of Hasmal with August and Danae, then I said, "You know the parents are probably wondering where in the Void we all are now." 

"That's why we tried to talk to you early," Danae said. 

"You wouldn't have liked it if you'd actually got us out of bed," I said darkly. 

"Perhaps we should be sociable, then?" Dorian said. 

"Best everyone not descend on them at once; they're liable to think we're up to something," Mae said with a smirk. 

"You three should go out first," Danae said firmly. 

"Why?" I asked. 

"Because you're all older and you've got no surprises for them." 

"Well, I like _that_ ," Dorian said with mock offense. "We're old and predictable?" 

Danae flushed. "Well, you're older than _us_." 

"This is how she asks for help," I said blandly. 

"Kai!" 

"Perhaps we shouldn't go out there at all. We might forget what to say, given our advanced years," I continued as if she hadn't spoken. 

"Or it may simply be that we've been unforgivably insulted," Dorian added, then smirked in my direction. "Though you are, of course, older than I by some years; something that should be celebrated, don't you think?" 

"Don't bloody start that again." I gave him a narrow-eyed glare. 

"Start what?" Mae asked with bright interest. 

"Kai will be _forty_ this Harvestmere. His mother wants to celebrate while they're visiting." 

"You know, I wouldn't consider it a _thing_ if you lot hadn't started making it one," I complained. 

"Tell Mother she can have her party — that'll put her in a good mood," Danae said. 

We went back and forth for a few minutes longer, then Mae, Dorian and I ventured out of our suite to be sociable (which annoyed Ferox no end, as he'd been sleeping on Dorian's lap). 

_=#=_

We emerged on the back patio to find my father down on his knees playing with Swivet while Mother watched.  He looked up at us without embarrassment and said, "He's very persuasive." 

I laughed and agreed as Swivet gave his hello trill and trotted over to greet me. Once he'd let me know I was important, he made the rounds of everyone else, accepting their attention as his due. He finally parked himself by my chair and appeared to doze off. 

We chatted until Mother asked, "Where are Danae and her friend anyway?" 

I figured it was time I take the plunge. As Danae was having to take over what was supposed to have been my role, I supposed I kind of owed it to her. 

I said, "About Danae…" and took a sip of coffee as a ploy to get them to pay attention. 

"What about Danae?" Father asked. 

"I was just wondering — you are planning on bringing her back to Ostwick with you, yes?" 

They looked at each other. Father said, "It's time. We're not getting any younger and she needs to get established. We've not made any secret of our feelings on the matter if that's what you're wondering." 

"Not really. She knew it was coming. She's already gotten to do more than most in Ostwick ever do." 

Mother smiled faintly. "Yes, the Chantry has already expressed its disapproval for the liberties we've allowed our daughter. Fortunately they no longer have the same power in Ostwick they once did, and the changes the new Divine has been implementing have helped lessen the censure we would have gotten not that long ago." 

"Do you have a match lined up for her?" 

Father gave me a suspicious look, but Mother didn't seem to notice. "That's been…trickier than we anticipated," she said with a small frown. "We've been trying to find someone who would be both logical and compatible for her; preferably someone who's at least within a decade of her own age, but there aren't that many." 

"Be honest, Jass. There aren't that many willing to take the chance," Father said. 

"I expect I know the answer, but what chance is that?" I asked. 

He blew out a puff of air. "That any or all of the children might be mages, of course. You'll find true change moves at glacial rates when you're talking about politics and tradition." 

"They may not know where you live now, but they all certainly remember Kai Trevelyan, the mage Inquisitor," Mother added. 

Both Dorian and Mae looked as unimpressed as I felt, but they kept their mouths shut. "Why am I not surprised. I suppose providing them with facts would be useless?" 

"You're proof magic runs in the Trevelyan bloodline, and quite strongly if you're any indication. Never mind you're the first mage we've had in ninety-four years," Father said. 

"There was a mage ninety-four years ago?" 

"Felsie," Dorian said. "Nine years after her birth she was swallowed into a Circle and never emerged." 

My father gawked at him. "How did you— Andraste's tits, you do take your genealogies seriously. Even I didn't know her name was Felsie." 

"You see? You never know when memorizing bloodlines might come in handy," Mae said. 

"The point is, a lot of the boys that would normally be brought forward as eligible are mysteriously _not_ eligible. Add in her age and the fact the _she's_ going to be Bann, not whoever she marries, and you get fewer prospects every year," Mother said. "Em's side of the family has been insufferable about it ever since we let her move to Antiva." 

"We do need an heir or two, or one of the other branches will move in and take over our bannorn," Father said. He looked angry and worried now. 

I smiled winningly at them. "What if I told you we have a solution to that?" 

"I say I don't trust the turn this conversation is taking as far as I could spit," Father said. 

"Will you listen anyway?" 

"We'll listen," Mother said. 

"And then we'll say no," he finished. 

Dorian grinned. "You obviously haven't been on the receiving end of your son's persuasive abilities before." 

Father snorted. "Fine. Persuade away." 

"Just hear me out," I said. "We've looked at this from every angle and it would work." 

"I take it we're talking about August," Mother said drily. 

"Very perceptive of you," I said. 

Father frowned. "Kai, he's Vin- that is, he's Tevinter." 

"You noticed that, did you?" 

"We already have one Tevinter in the family; I'm afraid two would make Ostwick implode." 

I shot Dorian a look of surprised triumph that he returned. My father had just referred to him as a part of the family, something neither one of us had expected. 

"We have a solution for that," I said smoothly. "Something that even explains his accent." 

I launched into the outline of our plan to sell August as a transplanted Tevinter of obscure but noble lineage from Hasmal. They both listened with faces so devoid of expression they could have bluffed their way through an entire Wicked Grace tournament with garbage hands and probably won. 

"So that's the gist of it," I said as I cast the small spell that would tell Danae I'd finished and they should come out now. "Any questions?" 

"Plenty," Father said, eyes flicking up as Danae and August emerged from the house. Everything paused for a few minutes as they got seated and servants brought consumables for everyone. I took a couple of cookies and slipped one to Swivet. 

"So." Father turned his gimlet gaze on my sister and her maybe-fiancé.  "If we were to accept this nug-brained scheme of yours,  how do you propose we pass August off as noble?" 

"Not all nugs are stupid and neither is this scheme," I said. 

Swivet click-trilled in agreement. I scratched his favourite spot between his ears. 

"Dorian might be able to come up with something. He knows all the genealogies." Danae turned big, melty eyes on my amatus. "Couldn't you, Dorian?" 

He stroked the patch of hair beneath his lower lip. "I could look into it. You'd need something obscure enough that people could find the family, but not much information on them." 

"How long did it take you to work all this up?" Mother asked. "I assume this is because you knew we need you to come home now?" 

"Well, that and I figured I can't exactly live here forever." Danae flashed a smile at Dorian and me. "I already knew Kai's got the only pass to _live_ in Tevinter, so…" she shrugged. 

"You want to do this, August?" Father looked at him sharply. 

The younger man nodded. "I know it hasn't been long, and among the nobility everywhere it's not done to marry for love, but I do love Danae. Moving from Tevinter isn't necessarily as traumatic a thing when you're not a mage." 

"It's mad to even consider." 

"But you're going to, right? Because deep down you both want me to be happy?" Danae said, adding a sad yet hopeful tone to the big, melty eyes. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. 

"Danae Trevelyan, that act stopped working when you were seven," Mother said. "Unfortunately, your happiness isn't the only thing we have to consider. You know that." 

"If you don't mind my asking, what prospects are you considering at the moment? Are there any that could honestly be advantageous?" Mae asked. 

Our parents looked at each other. "There's a Teyrn down in West Hill in Ferelden," Mother said. 

"He's nearly sixty years old and has a club foot," Father said with a snort. "He'd also never relocate." 

"What a pity," Danae said drily. 

"And Rance Grenfell. He's closer to her age." 

"The Grenfells spent so much on that ridiculous border war with the Trenholms they've barely got two coppers to rub together. And Rance is a third son they were going to hand over to the Chantry. Rumour has it he's a few bricks short of a load on a _good_ day," Father countered. 

"I'd say you're making Danae's case for her," I said. "Doesn't sound like either of those have anything worthwhile to offer our family." 

"And — with all due respect — August does?" Mother asked. 

"Yes, August does," Danae retorted. 

I could see this going on all day. Apparently Father felt the same, because he said, "We can discuss this at length later. Danae's put in her request and Kai's offered his endorsement; we don't need to bore everyone debating the issue right now. Let's give it some time to gestate, shall we?" 

Fortunately, Mother and Danae agreed. The subject changed to what we should do that day. Mae offered that she knew some areas not even long-time residents of Qarinus had discovered, which interested everyone enough to agree to her suggestion. Everyone dispersed long enough to get ready, and within a half hour we were on our way, riding in a large coach that had its own bound spirit to keep the temperature inside from becoming sweltering in the summer sun.


	106. Interlude (23) - Enzo's Camp

Enzo had ventured down to the abandoned summer house earlier and found the remnants of a mirror. He propped it on a makeshift easel of sorts so he could make himself presentable for Danae when the time came to rescue her. He'd spent the morning glancing occasionally in revulsed fascination at his…whatever the creature was. 

It had parked itself in front of the mirror and was sculpting its features into something new. Enzo hated Vints and he hated magic, and the creature seemed to be both, but it would be a wonderful distraction so he could slip into the big house unnoticed and spirit Danae away. 

"Are you done yet?" he demanded. 

"Silence," it said tersely. Its skin tone darkened slightly as its hair lightened and receded. It made its nose pointier, frowned, and put it back the way it was. It had been doing that for two hours. 

Enzo sighed gustily, snatched up his spyglass and went to his favourite vantage point. The mongrel Vint horde down in the house seemed to gather on the back patio frequently, so that was where he looked first. They were all down there, including Danae, who was being guarded by the man she'd arrived with the day before, judging by how closely he was sitting to her. As he focused in, she turned pleading eyes on the older man and woman. He couldn't make out what she was saying, of course, but her expression spoke volumes. A last attempt to appeal to their better instincts, perhaps? 

He snorted. _As if there was a Vint in existence that knew the finer emotions like compassion and mercy._

The imposing-looking blonde woman said something that made the older couple think. There was some back and forth for a few minutes, then all of them rose from the table. The new, bearded bastard put a proprietary arm around Danae's waist and guided her inside; the others followed them. Enzo waited, but nothing happened. He gave up and was walking back to camp and his creepy companion when he heard the sound of a coach. He ran toward his front-of-the-house vantage point, arriving in time to see a large vehicle departing. 

" _Braska,_ " he swore. He didn't know if they'd taken Danae with them or not. He'd have to assume they had. He trudged back to camp. 

"They've all gone out," he announced. "If there's something you wanted to do in that house, this would be a good time." 

The creature turned away from the mirror. It was still proportioned to fit into his clothes (he had no intention of asking for them back), but its skin tone was now midway between Enzo's own warm tan and Danae's alabaster. It had long, dark hair with touches of silver at the temples. The hair was combed (how Enzo didn't know) straight back and pulled into a severe braid. It had narrow, pale blue eyes (well, one, anyway; the other didn't look quite finished yet) and a beaky nose. It was clean shaven and its mouth had thin lips that seemed designed to purse in disapproval. Enzo couldn't imagine why it would voluntarily look like that. 

"This is me," it said. "Drusus Caecina Pavus." 

"Yes, well, good for you, old man," Enzo said. "Now do you want to get into your house or not? I've things to do there too, so if you just look the other way once we get in, we can both get what we want." 

It — _he_ — nodded. "I am ready." 

Enzo had a sudden pang of worry now that he was finally invading the fortress. "Do you have a weapon? I've got a short sword, but I need it." 

Drusus Caecina Pavus sneered and flicked his right hand. A fireball erupted from it, screaming across camp to incinerate Enzo's only chair. "I need no weapon." 

"Good." Enzo shuddered and covered his revulsion by busying himself adjusting the strap on his (second best) mandolin's carrying case now that it was secured so the instrument could ride safely on his back. "Good. Well. Let's go then, shall we?" 

"Yes."


	107. Section 3 - Black House

**_Intruder_ **

After Mae escorted us to some of the more interesting corners of Qarinus, we'd gone to dinner at a restaurant August suggested. Neither Dorian nor Mae had ever heard of it (unsurprising as it was in the soporati part of town), and the food was delicious. We got quite a few stares while we were there, but I wasn't sure whether it was because Dorian, Mae and I look somehow magey, or just we all stand out in a crowd, and this time we _were_ a crowd. 

Everyone agreed the day had been full enough that rather than look for further entertainment in the city, they’d prefer a night in, so after dinner we headed back home (August included). By the time we dropped Mae off at her place and arrived at our estate, it was getting dark. 

We left the coach, which rattled away to the stables. Dorian slowed as we reached the front door, frowning in apparent confusion.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

He squinted at the doorway. “I don't know. Something feels…off. Can't you feel it?”

I didn't at first, but looked around in the magical spectrum anyway. After a few moments, I found it. "What the…there _is_ something." I squinted at the doorway too. There was a magical residue there that was unlike any I’d ever seen. "What the fuck is that?"

Dorian gave his head a jerky, annoyed shake. “I don’t know. There’s death associated with it, but I can’t get any kind of read. There’s nothing to hold onto — I’ve no frame of reference.”

“Is there something you should be telling us?” Danae asked.

“Something strange and probably creepy was here. You might want to move back,” I said. 

Dorian was slowly pacing up and down the walk. I could tell he was conferring with his spirits by the purplish glow swirling around him. Finally he stopped, his eyes wide and serious as they met mine. “I don't know what's going on, but they say something that was dead and isn't any more was here. It entered the house.”

“They couldn't say what it was?”

“No. They don't know what it is. But amatus, it _scared_ them. Badly.”

I wasn't sure I wanted to know what could badly scare death spirits. “So as resident necromancer, what do you suggest? It seems foolhardy to march in and demand to know what it thinks it's doing, whatever it is.”

“Well I'm certainly not going to hand the house over to it. There's also the staff to consider.”

“And Swivet and Ferox,” I added loyally.

My father approached us. “What's wrong? I may not be a mage, but I do have some experience with problem solving.”

“We don't know. Something appears to have entered the house, and whatever it is, it scared death spirits,” I told him.

He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I imagine your next step is going to be to send away those of us who aren't magically inclined.”

“I'd feel better if you weren't in the line of fire,” I said.

“Have you considered it might be resistant or invulnerable to magical attacks?”

“We've…had experience with creatures like that.” Dorian glanced at me as he said that. One of those creatures had nearly killed him about a year ago.

“As long as we can get to my workshop, we've got my crossbows,” I said.

Father raised an eyebrow. “And if you can't?” 

“I've got a hunting knife. I know it's not ideal, but…” I trailed off.

Father didn't comment, just turned his attention to Dorian. “And you?”

He sighed, giving Father a wry smile. “I am somewhat versed in using Kai's crossbows, which as we established are in his workshop. I may have a spare staff or two I can access, which can be used as a spear in the event magic isn't possible.”

Mother and Danae joined us. Now only August was hanging back, as he was the only one who'd been taught to let mages run things. Or perhaps he was just less pushy than my family.

“Is this some boys-only conversation?” Danae demanded.

“We weren't aiming for that,” I said. “It started as a _mages_ -only conversation because there might be some kind of magical intruder in the house. Then Father came over to point out whatever it is might be magic resistant.”

“We had just established that there are no practical weapons nearby that they can access,” Father said.

“Do you have a guard house?” Mother asked, “Or are your guards all mages too?”

“No, no mage would be on guard duty. I must admit we consider it beneath us,” Dorian said. “Although it could be vulnerable to magic, you know.”

“You want to take that chance?” I said.

“I think there's something we could use at the stables,” Dorian said. “Shall we look?”

“And then you're gonna tell us to stay there, aren't you?” Danae said, giving us a rebellious glare as we started walking.

“You have combat experience we don't know about?” I asked sweetly.

“Smartass,” she grumbled.

We reached the stables and found the coachman standing at the entrance looking confused. “Dominus Pavus,” he said with obvious relief as we approached, “thank the Maker! Something passing strange is happening – I can't find anyone.”

Dorian frowned. “How many are supposed to be here, Castellus?”

“Not loads of people, but there should be Lukas, your groomsman, and a couple hands. I can't find anyone and these horses need tending to.”

“Well, do what you can to at least make them comfortable. We're looking into it. Oh, and you might want to keep to your quarters tonight.”

Castellus nodded, looking vaguely awed, and went off to the side where the horses were kept.

“Still think we'll be safe out here?” Danae asked.

“I don't know what to think,” I said.

We followed Dorian to a small outbuilding attached to the stables. He cast a spell that unlocked the door (explaining to the others that there was a key around somewhere) and cast light inside. As weapons caches went, it wasn't going to win any awards. There were some swords, a couple of pikes, a couple more bows, one good-sized axe, a collection of daggers, one heavy crossbow and a morningstar whose wooden handle had cracked and been fixed by someone wrapping a long length of leather around it. 

Father inspected them all and gave Dorian another raised eyebrow. 

“They're decent quality, I'll give you that, but a little sparse, don't you think? What if the Qunari were to decide this would be a fine starting point for a new invasion?”

“Most of our fighters keep their weapons at home,” Dorian replied. “This was never meant to be anything more than a desultory backup. There are magical weapons at the house, and Lucien is a mage himself. I admit we rely a great deal on magic, but don't think this is a typical Tevinter weapons supply depot. They _are_ all spelled to stay in good repair.”

“Well. You don't mind if we liberate a few of these, do you? Even if we don't accompany you in pursuit of this thing, I'd prefer to have some means of defense.”

Dorian motioned _go ahead_. Father took one of the swords (a sleek duelling model) and handed Mother and Danae a couple of daggers. We all looked at August.

He shrugged, looking embarrassed and defensive. “I'm an undertaker. By the time they get to me I don't normally have to worry about them fighting back.”

Father chuckled. “Fair enough. This is more a precaution anyway.”

Danae pushed past him and took the heavy crossbow, handing a large bag of bolts to August. “I've used your little ones enough, I've got the idea,” she said to me. “I know this has a harder draw, but August can help.”

Mother gave us all a sharp look. “If whatever-it-is has taken your stable hands, I'd say that's a sign it isn't safe to stay here. I'm not a coward, but I've no interest in fighting a mundane enemy, let alone a magical one. So where would you two suggest we wait while you look into this?”

I chewed at my lower lip, thinking, and finally suggested, “The eluvian room?”

Dorian nodded. “Good thinking, amatus. It's the most secure outbuilding we have and it has a guaranteed escape route so long as we trigger it for them.”

“Take the axe,” I told August. “It looks scary and it'll do some damage to pretty much anything you hit with it. Just try not to drop it.”

He took it gingerly, giving it a few experimental swings. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”

Dorian relocked the door, saying, “I can honestly say in all the years my family has lived here, nothing like this has ever happened. I haven't the slightest why it is now.”

I said, “No doubt just to reinforce Father's dim view of Tevinter.”

As we set out for the eluvian building, we explained that if there was any trouble at all, they were to go through the big mirror. 

“Best case if you need to use it, just wait for us on the other side, but if you do need to get away entirely, don't worry. It's a long walk, but you'll end up at my house in Hasmal,” I said. “There are some nasty things over there — like giant spiders but with more legs and poisonous claws — but chances are you won't run into any. If you do, make sure they don't scratch you. They're not that hard to kill. And stay away from the rocks — that's where they seem to live.”

“This is your idea of a safe place to escape to?” Mother said acerbically.

“Compared to some of the things we've seen, yes,” I replied. 

We dismissed the wards and unlocked the door, leading them back to the eluvian room proper (which was also warded and locked). As we approached it, the great mirror 'woke up', colours and hints of shapes seeming to swim just below the surface of the glass.

“Just give us a few minutes to key you to it,” I said. “Otherwise it won't work for you without one of us here.”

“You really think you need to do all this?” August asked. “All you've got is some sketchy information about something scary going in the house and some missing stable hands.”

“Yes, we do,” Dorian said. “If it turns out to be nothing, we can all have a jolly laugh about it and end the night with a sing-along. But if it's something, it could be a very bad something. We'd prefer not to fall into the plot of some tragic melodrama and have Kai's entire family get slaughtered.”

“What he said.” I finished casting and pointed out where the water pump and water skins were. Just in case. 

I took a deep breath. “Okay, we're going to re-ward and re-lock everything. I know there's not much to entertain here, but you've access to the facilities, and there are some field rations if you get _really_ hungry. I think there’s a deck or two of playing cards in that little writing desk in the other room. If _anything_ other than us somehow gets in here, use the eluvian.”

Mother and August both nodded. My father gave us a flat look and said, “I'm coming with you.”

“No, you're not,” I retorted. “This isn't a normal threat. This is something that could be highly magical.”

“And you already admitted it might be able to resist your magic. For all you know I can help.”

“How am I supposed to concentrate knowing we need to protect you?”

“You're professionals. You'll figure it out,” he said stubbornly.

I looked to Dorian for help, but he made a small _I'm staying out of this_ motion and said nothing.

“Father, you're over sixty,” I protested.

He gave me a look that could cut diamonds. “And?”

“Well, you're…” I floundered.

“Old? Feeble? Probably apt to forget something or do something addled at a crucial moment?” 

“You're just- You're not thirty anymore.”

He smiled thinly. “Neither are you. And neither, I daresay, is Dorian.”

“Yes, but we're _mages_.”

“That does not make you infallible, son. I'm coming.”

I tried to think of something other than slapping on a binding spell and throwing him through the eluvian to stop him and couldn't. There was a part of me that understood his desire and didn't necessarily disagree with him. Finally I threw my hands in the air. “ _Fasta vass_. Fine. Come. But I'm trusting you to be as competent as you claim. And if we tell you to do something, for Andraste's sake, do it.”

“Of course,” he said with infuriating calm. “You're the experts.”

“I should come too,” Danae piped up.

We all wheeled on her. “ _No_. You shouldn't,” I snapped.

“You're staying right here,” Father said.

“So it is some sort of boys' club,” she said with an angry scowl.

“No it isn't,” I said.

Dorian cut in, smiling charmingly. “Danae, think about it. If you come with us, what do you expect Jasia and August to do? She knows the sort of self-defense that protects her from mashers and drunken nobles, and August doesn't create his own clientele. Please? Don't you want someone to be here for them too?”

She looked into his riveting grey eyes and smiled grudgingly. “I know what you're doing, Dorian, and if you weren't right I'd be cross with you. I'll stay, but I'm not impressed.”

“Thank you. You'll excuse me if we all hope the three of you will simply be bored for a time.”

“You too.” She exhaled loudly. “I guess we should get those cards out.”

I breathed a mental sigh of relief and told myself to thank Dorian profusely when this was over with. Then I turned a stern look on Father. “If you're determined to come with us, we'd better find you some armour. We have a fair bit stored here and you're close enough to our size it shouldn't be a problem.”

“What about you?” Now that he was getting his way, he was being thoroughly agreeable.

“Us too. I wish I had my coat.”

He squinted at me. “You can't possibly be cold.”

“I'm not. But that coat is the single best piece of armour I own, and I left it in the house.”

Dorian opened the large closet that held an array of armour we kept for trips through eluvian-land. “I'm not sure what will fit you best; we'll have to experiment. Kai's is the black stuff, naturally.”

“Black armour looks badass,” I stated, pulling out what I was planning to use and setting it aside.

“That I'll agree with,” Father said.

“Mine does complement his aesthetically and thematically,” Dorian said, eyeing two different styles of gauntlet critically.

Father hefted one of my leather harnesses. “I thought mages used light armour. This has some balls to it.”

“Yeah, I used to wear light armour. Then the shite I was wearing failed one day and I ended up clawed to pieces and impaled by a fade demon. After that I said to the void with tradition and upgraded,” I said sourly.

As we tried to find the pieces that would fit him best, we discussed strategy. “We should pick a less noticeable entrance,” Dorian said.

“I want my crossbows,” I said. 

“Yes, and I want my favourite staff. We'll try for those first, of course. You should at least take a staff with you in case we don't make it to that part of the house.”

“I know. But these days the thing feels more like a pain in the arse.”

“Do you have enough crossbows that you could spare another?” Father asked. “If I'm armed with the variety you've been constructing it might level the battlefield slightly.”

“Good thought,” I said. “The bolts have been pre-spelled, so they'll work just as well for you. Even with non-magical ones you can punch into someone's skull like meringue.”

“You never used to be this bloodthirsty,” Dorian said with a faint smile.

“As I get older I've lost patience with things trying to kill me.”

“If age is commensurate with expedient lethality, you should be thrilled I'm along,” Father said.

“I am. I just don't want anything killing you,” I said.

“That's reassuring.”

We finally got him outfitted in a mix of my and Dorian's armour. I had to admit he didn't look his age and he did, in fact, look badass. I even told him as much, which made him grin. 

After a quick trip to the eluvian room to show off Father's transformation — which both Mother and Danae vocally approved of while August smiled at their reactions — we re-locked and –warded the building, cast _don't notice me_ spells and set off across the grounds to one of the house's lesser-used entrances.


	108. Ante Omnia Armari

As we drew closer to the house, we saw we were right to assume the worst. The entire place was dark, except for a sickly reddish light pulsing through the windows of the long-neglected ballroom. If whatever-it-was had set up its base there, at least it had picked a wing that was virtually never used. That meant we stood a good chance of getting everything we needed before confronting the threat.

Only the smaller moon was out, so once we were well out of view of the ballroom, we chanced casting a low light. We approached the back patio and heard rustling coming from the hedgerow at the far side. Everyone froze. I was preparing offensive spells in my mind when the rustling happened again, accompanied by a low trill I recognized immediately.

I knelt down as my nug dashed out of the shrubbery and all but threw himself into my arms, making soft little alarmed noises. I talked calmly to him, finally picking him up and sitting in one of the patio chairs with him until he calmed down. “Is there something in the house?” I asked.

He stared at the darkened doorway then looked up at me with a soft, frightened noise like the hinge of a rusty gate creaking open. I motioned Dorian and Father over. “He's actually shaking. Whatever this thing is, he can sense it and it's scaring the fuck out of him. I can't leave him out here. I've got to take him to the eluvian room.”

I thought they'd object, but all Dorian said was, “Of course. Whatever it's doing, it seems to be fully preoccupied, so what's another ten minutes?”

Father said, “Should we all go, or should Dorian and I wait here?”

“You might as well wait. Just stay on your guard.” I looked down at Swivet. “Do you want to go? We'll go see Danae.”

He gave a small, hopeful squeak.

“You be careful too,” Dorian admonished me. “You don't want anyone noticing the two of you.”

I stood, depositing Swivet on the floor, took Dorian in my arms and kissed him. “We'll be careful. I'll be back before you know it. Have fun with Father.”

“I'll have you know I'm a great deal of fun,” Father said softly. 

I laughed and set out for the eluvian building with Swivet all but glued to my heels.

I cast another _don't-notice-me_ spell and admonished Swivet to be quiet. I needn't have worried. My nug didn't make a peep. We stayed as far away from the sullenly-glowing ballroom windows as possible and made it to the eluvian's outbuilding unnoticed.

I unsealed the door and we slipped inside. The others were seated in the main room and all looked at us hopefully.

“Sorry, but it's looking like something terrible is happening. I've just brought a refugee,” I said.

Swivet looked up at me and squeaked.

“We'll take good care of him,” Danae said.

“If maker forbid you should need to use it, Swivet also knows the way to the other eluvian,” I told them. I knelt down again and fussed over my nug. He nuzzled my face, setting his paw on my right hand with a trill. I told him to be good and I'd be back soon then stood.

So did my mother. She came over and, to my surprise, hugged me fiercely. “You be careful,” she said, “and you bring your father back to me. He gets it into his head that he can handle everything at times.”

“I'll make sure he gets back if I have to knock him out and carry him back,” I assured her.

“I'd tell you to bring yourself and Dorian back too, but I think that goes without saying.”

I smiled. “But you just said it anyway.”

“I suppose I did.” She let go of me and stepped back. “Anyway. Good luck and if whatever's in there seems to be too much for even you, remember there's no shame in a tactical retreat.”

“I'll remember that. Take care of Swivet.”

Danae hopped up and hugged me too. “Kick ass, Kai. And keep Dorian and Father safe.”

“I will.”

August looked at me with a grin. “If it's all the same to you, I'm not going to hug you.”

I smiled and shrugged. “Your loss. I'll get over it.”

“I will wish you luck though.”

I thanked him, fussed over Swivet a little more and slipped back out, re-securing the door. I made my way back to the patio. Dorian and Father had moved a couple of chairs into a dark area to one side and were watching the silent, unlit back room through the windows. They stood as I approached.

“Swivet all squared away, then?” Father said.

I nodded. “I'm assuming the cat went wherever cats go when they know something evil is afoot.”

Dorian grinned. “You honestly just said _evil is afoot_?”

“You look at those ballroom windows and tell me that isn't evil being flagrantly afoot.”

“Hm. You have a point. Why do you suppose evil always seems to enjoy being overweeningly gauche? We've been watching, and there seems to be nothing mundane or magical lurking right here. I'm thinking we can just use the patio door. It gets us closer to the workshops than the small courtyard.”

“Let's do it,” I said. "If we trigger something, we trigger it. Father, please let us go through first.”

“And if it triggers something to attack from yon shrubbery?” he said drily.

“This thing has to know someone lives here. I'm assuming it would have been in a hurry, so it didn't take the time to set up that level of trap. If we're wrong, just duck so we can hit it with magic.”

He nodded and we moved stealthily to the sliding door. Dorian dismissed the ward locking it and we waited. When nothing happened for about five minutes, he eased the door open, waited another minute and slipped through. I had spells readied to take out anything magical or mundane that might try to sucker punch him, but it looked as if that part of the house was untenanted. Father and I joined Dorian, who cast a very low light.

“Workshops first?” I said quietly.

Dorian nodded. “Basement first, then yours on the way back?”

“Makes sense.”

The magical workshop took up most of the basement of the main house. Magical workshops do best in basements or ground floors because it's useful to have stone floors. They're much less likely to catch fire or sustain permanent damage when the occasional accident occurs, and for grounding it's best to be closest to the —um— ground. This one also contained a sizeable magical library, pantries for ingredients, storage facilities and even a small cold room. It was the sort of workshop one could only dream about in the south.

We made it down the stairs without incident and Dorian fetched his favourite staff.

“No firebombs?” Father said a little wistfully.

“This is our house,” Dorian replied. “I'd rather keep the damage to a minimum if at all possible.”

“Not to mention Dorian and I can cast our own firebombs,” I added.

“Of course. Guess I got wrapped up in the adventure of it all.”

Dorian took a handful of lyrium vials and packed them into one of the pouches on his armour (as I've mentioned before, I didn't need any), and we took a few healing potions each.

We warded shut the workroom and crept back up the stairs. The hallway to my workroom wasn't long and there was only the one door at the end, but we proceeded as though someone might jump out at any moment. I'd let my guard down once a year ago and nearly died because of it.

I dismissed the wards on the door and we entered. It wasn't as grand a size as the main workroom, but it was spacious enough. I retrieved my coat then got down to the business of choosing weapons. I took the two crossbows I'd put the most work into because I'd got them channelling magic much like a staff does, and had magically enhanced them so they packed as much of a punch as a full-sized war bow like Varric's Bianca — perhaps more. 

Father got one that was similarly hardened but didn't channel magic and I insisted Dorian take one (hardened, some ability to channel magic) just in case something awful happened. Then came the bolts. I'd pre-spelled several to deliver their spell on impact. Father got nothing but those; as he said, it might help level the battlefield. Dorian and I took a mix of spelled and unspelled. 

“I suppose we're ready,” I said as I looked around the workroom, trying to think if there was something else we should be bringing.

“As we'll ever be,” Dorian agreed. “It's really too bad we dropped Mae off at home. No offense,” he added to Father.

“Don't worry about it. Always knew you Magisters were an arrogant lot.” The difference was, this time he said it with a smile.

“You're probably just pleased you can go back home and report that just as you expected, you came under magical attack in Tevinter,” I said.

“That would mean admitting we went to Tevinter,” he said. “Shall we get this production on the road?”

I gave him a narrow-eyed look. “I don't believe I've ever seen you this cheerful. We may have to discuss this lust for adventure you seem to have later.”

“Let's survive this monster of yours first, shall we?” He gave me a bland smile back.

“It's not my monster,” I muttered under my breath. Dorian gave me a knowing smirk.

He cast a _don't-notice-me_ spell over all of us and we walked silently down the dark halls, heading for the little-used north wing containing the ballroom.


	109. Interlude (24) - Enzo

He'd found her room. He'd roamed the bewildering maze of hallways and rooms, trying to keep in mind where he'd seen her sweet, distressed face the other night. And finally he'd found her room. It had to be because he recognized so many of her belongings. It wasn't locked, but he supposed it wasn't necessary when they had her under their control elsewhere. He pulled an armchair to a place where he could see the door without being immediately visible and settled down to wait. 

Sooner or later they'd have to bring her back. 


	110. Ballroom

As we approached the north wing we could all feel it, even Father. The atmosphere grew close and oppressive and steadily warmer. 

“ _Venhedis_ , what's making it so bloody hot?” I whispered.

Dorian stopped dead. “The spirits.”

“Excuse me?”

“Feel for them, amatus. The bound spirits we have controlling the temperature. They're all gone. Does this mean they're _all_ gone?”

I knew he was thinking about the spirits he regularly conferred with. “I'd suggest thinking twice before opening any channel into the Fade right now. I get the odd feeling whatever's here might sense that.”

“You're right, of course. _Damn_. I hope they just fled. Those spirits have been here longer than I've been alive.”

I'd never been in that wing of the house. There was a foyer whose polished wood floor was inlaid with a delicate geometric pattern of gold. It ended in a set of exquisitely carved doors that would have been flung open when there was a function going on. The walls were painted a rich cream colour and decorated with tasteful paintings of people dancing.

We moved with even more caution, hugging the wall as we approached the big double doors. 

“I don't know why they kept the ballroom in the first place,” Dorian muttered to me. “Father hated hosting functions and Mother's bailiwick was lavish dinner parties.”

One door was still firmly shut. The other sagged sadly — something had ripped its top hinge out of the frame when they flung it open. That sickly red light was pulsing out of the opening. We stopped and shifted to the magical spectrum to look the opening up and down.

“It's not warded,” Dorian whispered.

“There's something wrong with it, though,” I answered. “It feels…ugly.”

“I could ask my spirits to have a look.”

I shook my head. “Same problem. Can't be opening channels to the Fade. For all we know, whatever's in there senses us already, but why make it easier for them?”

“Well, I suppose we'll just have to have a look for ourselves, then.”

We skirted around the grand foyer until we could see through the destroyed door. At first glance everything looked normal if you ignored that pulsing light, but, “ _Venhedis_ , I wish I'd brought my spyglass. Something is wrong with this picture,” I complained.

I was trying to squint at it without moving closer when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and my father handed me a small, collapsible spyglass. 

“It's just a pocket model, but well made. I find they come in handy at the oddest times,” he said.

I smiled my thanks and looked through the glass, blinking as I focused it. “Fuck me, it's like there's something _growing_ in there.” I handed the glass to Dorian.

“We're going to have a delightful time getting that out of the carpet,” he said. 

He handed the glass back to Father, who peered through it, made a disapproving noise and collapsed the glass.

“Well, I think we've done all we can out here,” Dorian said. “Shall we see what sort of delightful creature is trying to set up housekeeping in our ballroom?”

=#=

The double doors led to an anteroom where, during an actual function, coats and cloaks would be deposited and people would wait to be announced. It was wide but not terribly long and led to another ornate set of doors. One of those had been blown off its hinges too. The carpeting in the anteroom had its own carpet of what looked like short, reddish grass growing out of it.

“What's that supposed to be?” I mused. “What purpose does it serve?”

“I'm not sure,” Dorian said with a frown. “I've never seen the like. An alarm system? Poison delivery if you're foolish enough to step on it?”

“I'd rather not find out. We need to not step on it.”

“How are you going to do that?” Father asked.

“I wish I knew.”

“You can't fly over it? Or build a magic bridge?”

“Sorry, neither.”

“What about the roof, then?”

“I just told you we can't fly,” I objected.

“There are these things called ropes,” he said drily. “Not as sexy as magic, but they're remarkably efficient.”

I looked at Dorian. “Do we have ropes? Or more to the point, could we get in via the roof?”

He didn't look thrilled. “Well…it has a skylight, but I can't say that I fancy trying to clamber down ropes. There are a few side doors we should be able to access from the servants halls.”

“Why didn't you say that in the first place?”

“I got distracted by all this talk of ropes.” He gave me a cheeky smirk. “Actually, I was making sure I was remembering correctly before saying anything. I haven’t ventured near this part of the house for years.”

“So do you know the way to the servant's halls?”

“As long as our intruder hasn't blocked it, yes. This way.” He led us to the left. Near the far wall of the foyer was a door so non-descript I suspected it had been spelled to be so. Dorian turned the handle and eased it open. We saw a dark hallway that looked to parallel the ballroom. We inspected it carefully and concluded no one had ventured near it for a very long time. Readying our weapons, we stepped over the threshold and closed the door most of the way behind us. 

Dorian took point, casting a low, diffuse light. I followed next so I could take on threats from either direction. I cast a spell to muffle any sound we might make, assuming like the light spell, it took so little power that it should remain unnoticed by the intruder. The hall smelled musty.

After what seemed like a terribly long time but was probably only a few minutes, Dorian stopped and said, “There's a door just ahead that lets out into the ballroom. From what I recall we'll emerge somewhere near the back.”

We nodded and silently approached the door, which was as non-descript as the one that led to the hallway. Dorian tried the handle, gave us a terse nod and twisted it, easing the door open. We waited for something to notice, but there was only that sullenly pulsing light. We crept into the ballroom, sticking close to the wall.

The first thing I noticed after the light was that the room was eerily silent. Between the light and the violence with which the doors had been ripped off, it seemed like there should have been _something_. A bass pulsing like that of a giant heart, maybe, or distant moans and screams. The atmosphere felt oppressive and threatening enough, but it was so silent it was unsettling. 

The ballroom was vast — a great, rectangular space with an exquisite, highly polished floor of red-gold wood. The walls were white, with a patterned gold overlay. Huge round-arched windows marched down both sides of the room. They were inlaid with intricate wrought iron designs — a geometric pattern followed the perimeter, with crosshatching supporting a great, beautifully rendered central figure. The figures alternated between dragons and peacocks. I imagined when everything was lit, it looked spectacular. Even now it was impressive.

The room was empty, but somehow felt very _full_.

We stayed still at first, watching for signs of activity. There were big chandeliers hanging at regular intervals along the high, vaulted ceiling. They'd all been wrapped in great swaths of white cloth to protect them during the long years of disuse, making them look like the cocoons of some great, alien insect. 

When the ballroom was active, there would have been a series of small, round tables along the sides for dancers and their friends to rest, take refreshment or simply observe. The tables were gathered in an orderly huddle at the back now, each one covered in more white cloth. The pulsing red light made them look as if they were moving and shifting under their wrappings, like beasts waking from long hibernation. 

The weird, grasslike growth we'd seen in the foyer was absent, but there was something not quite right about an area close to the centre of the room, so once we were satisfied there was nothing lying in wait for us, we walked cautiously out to the anomaly. I mostly ignored the urge to look behind us every few feet.

As we neared it, the nature of the anomaly became evident. The perfect, impeccably finished wood of the dance floor was increasingly bent and buckled; the footing would have been treacherous had we not been moving so slowly. We were also drawing closer to the source of that sickly pulsing light.

A few feet ahead of me, Dorian stopped short, muttering, “ _Fasta vass_.”

Father and I caught up and stopped next to him. I said, “ _Fuck me_ ,” as Father added, “ _Andraste's tits_ ,” to the mix.

A roughly circular hole wide enough I wouldn't dare attempt to jump it had been blasted into the floor. It appeared to be several feet deep — certainly too deep to chance descending into without a rope. The light was beaming out of it in those sick pulses.

We moved carefully to the edge. There seemed to be no way down; the walls of the pit were rough but sheer. 

“Still think my rope idea stinks?” Father said.

“There's got to be a way down,” I muttered, looking in vain for something ladder-like.

“Why?” he asked.

I couldn't help it — I flashed a quick grin. “Narrative purposes?”

Dorian laughed softly as Father raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “It would appear the gods of expedient action sequences aren't listening.”

“Well, if we want to confront the bastard who's ruined a vintage, perfectly seasoned and maintained dance floor it's clear we're expected to go down there,” Dorian said, glaring into the abyss. “Any suggestions?”

“If we don't have a rope, there's plenty of material here to make one,” Father said.

“When did you become such a great proponent of rope?” I asked.

“I have always been a great proponent of rope,” he replied. “It's simply not a subject that comes up frequently in casual conversation.”

Dorian gave him a sharp look. “Are you suggesting the three of us _weave_ a rope to get down there?”

“I thought ropes were braided,” I commented, drawing a glare of my own from Dorian.

Father gave him one of his patented bland looks back. “Plenty of table cloths over there. You can tie a knot, can't you?”

“Yes. I'm just dismayed that this is our best recourse.”

“Since you said flight isn't an option.”

Dorian sighed. “Fine. Table cloths it is. Unless you have a better idea, amatus?”

I shook my head. “Can't think of a thing. It doesn't seem very heroic, though.” 

We went back to the huddled herd of tables as Dorian said, “Well, if we ever get Varric to write about this we'll tell him to substitute something appropriately dramatic. Trailing vines of unknown origin that writhe when you touch them, perhaps, that we magicked into weaving _themselves_ into a rope.”

“I like that. Sounds much scarier than aged linens.”

“They could be rotten, you know. No one's used this room for years.” He sounded almost hopeful.

The table cloths weren't rotten. Even though they were just being used to cover tables in storage, they were of the finest Tevinter linen and spelled to repel moisture, dirt and rot. Using my hunting knife, we cut them into strips and set about constructing a rope sturdy enough to allow all three of us to not only climb into the pit, but hopefully back out.

The whole time we were constructing our rope, the room maintained its eerie silence. Dorian and I had cast some white light over the spot where we were working, but the endless pulse of the red light from the hole in the floor was starting to give me a headache.

“How long are we supposed to make this?” Dorian asked. “We don't actually know how deep that abyss is.”

“Make it stupidly long then add a little more,” I advised. “I'd rather have half of it sitting on the ground than wind up dangling from tablecloths in mid–air.”

“I was not put on this world to weave,” he groused.

“None of us were. We pay people to do that,” Father said with a slight smirk.

I stopped weaving for a moment to stare at him. “You are definitely enjoying this. Don't deny it.”

“Hm.” He kept weaving. “Perhaps I am. I'm sure to you two this is a particularly active Thursday, but some of us have managed to go a lifetime without encountering anything more exciting than interhouse sniping and the occasional band of brigands.”

"Here we all thought you enjoyed politics when the truth is you’d have been happier as an adventurer.”

“I don’t know that I’d want to do it full time, but this is certainly a change of pace.” Father concentrated on his tablecloth strips as he added, "Also gives me the opportunity to spend some time getting to know you when you're too busy to worry about what you're doing and saying."

That threw me for enough of a loop that I didn't have the first idea how to respond, so I didn't. Dorian looked at me over Father's head and gave me a quick, knowing smile. Now I was going to have to stop myself fretting about whether or not I'd been that obvious in my self-editing around them.

We didn't say much else as we finished our rope. Even if I hadn't been obsessing over Father's comment, the atmosphere in the ballroom discouraged casual conversation. 

I'm sure anyone who knows anything about rope-making would have been either sorrowful or amused by our finished product, but we thought we'd done a pretty stellar job. It even looked like a rope. We coiled it into some semblance of order and took it to the support pillar closest to the pit. Even we spoiled nobles knew it needed to be secured to something that wasn't likely to go anywhere. I cudgelled my memory for the lessons in knot-tying a ship's bosun had given me the year before and managed to tie something that wasn't going to come undone. The fact that I was the most qualified knot-tyer should probably have struck us all as a little frightening.

Once our rope was secure, we approached the edge of the pit.

“Can you tell what’s making that light?” Father asked.

I shook my head. “No idea. It doesn’t seem to serve any purpose other than being baleful. Dorian?”

“I couldn’t sense anything either. Perhaps it’s to serve as a beacon?”

“A beacon for what?” I wondered aloud.

“If we find the source, do we douse it or let it alone?” Father asked.

“We might want to play that one by ear,” Dorian advised.

“Anyone have anything stirring to say?” I asked. “We are descending into the unknown, after all.”

“I'm afraid all I can think of is _down the hatch_ ,” Father said.

“That may be the most appropriate comment this night,” Dorian said, staring raptly into the abyss. “Best try to find a smooth spot to drop it or the jagged edges will undoubtedly saw through the rope and send one of us hurtling to our doom.”

“Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine.” I ruffled his hair because I could.

He gave me a mock glare with a hint of a smile, shaking off the dark mood. “As long as we don't find an inland sea and one wobbly boat at the bottom, I am prepared.”

We found a smooth spot, wedged the makeshift rope firmly in place, and dropped it over the edge. We all watched it fall then watched it a little longer. We couldn't tell if it hit bottom. 

“You know, you don't have to come, Father,” I said. “This has the potential to get ugly — we don't know what's down there.”

“For all you know, you'll need someone non-magical along,” he said placidly. 

“You may be right.” I wasn't going to argue or treat him like he was feeble. I've seen far too many people who didn't look like they could combat much more than an irritable nug do amazing things when situations got ugly, and too many who looked like they should be able to single-handedly vanquish an ogre that turned out to be dead useless.

I checked that my hunting knife was properly secured in its sheath. After everyone did a weapons check and drank some water, I said, “I'll go first, then Dorian. Meet you all at the bottom.” I took hold of our rope and eased myself over the edge. We'd put large knots in at regular intervals, so as long as the rope itself held, at least no one was likely to lose their grip and slither right off the end. A good thing, since rope-climbing was something I neither indulged in nor excelled at.

I descended into the abyss.


	111. Entry - The First Floor

After descending past strata I couldn't define and what had to be bedrock for what seemed like a very long time (at least to my arms and shoulders, which were protesting mightily by the end), the last thing I expected was to land on a timeworn but still intact parquet floor.

I cast light and moved out of the way so Dorian and Father didn't land on top of me. 

“Dorian,” I said as he jumped from the rope with a groan, “what is this?”

“What's what and why are you asking me? _Venhedis_ , my _shoulders_.” He moved closer to me as Father jumped the last few feet to the ground.

“Were you aware you seem to have another house down here?” I pointed at the floor.

His brow furrowed as he studied it. “It could be that my ancestors built over the ruins of another one. I never heard any stories, if that's what you're wondering.”

I directed my light to illuminate more of the hallway that stretched away just ahead and to our left. It, too, was intact. The walls were upright, the floor and ceiling both firm. It looked dark and dusty, but not as though it had been buried for countless years. “Pretty spiffing for a ruin, don't you think?”

“I profess to being completely baffled. I've neither heard nor read anything about a previous estate here, let alone one that appears to have been dropped intact into a hole in the grounds,” he said, casting a light of his own. “It's very unlike my ancestors not to mention something like this. We Altus are notorious for writing everything down.”

We made a slow circuit of the room we’d landed in. It was octagonal, perhaps five paces across, and panelled in dark wood up to where the walls ended and the rock walls of the pit began. There was no ceiling, and no sign there’d ever been one. Whatever purpose the room originally had, it was empty now.

“That light’s coming from farther up,” I said. “Did anyone happen to look while we were climbing down?”

“I didn’t see the source. Mind you, I was paying more attention to not losing my grip than studying magical phenomena,” Dorian replied.

“Probably is just a beacon or marker. I haven’t noticed it doing anything else,” I said.

“A bit over the top, don’t you think?” Father said drily.

“Seems to be a requirement for these sorts of things,” I answered in the same tone.

Father gave a snort of laughter and made another circuit of the room on his way to the hallway. "Any idea what era this is from?" 

“Sadly, I never learned enough about historical carpentry,” Dorian said.

“You can learn a lot from carpentry trends through the ages,” Father said, a frightening degree of enthusiasm starting to creep into his voice.

“I'm sure you can, Father, but right now I think it's more important to find out who knew this place was here and decided to drop into the old homestead. Wouldn't you agree?” I said.

He smiled. “Of course. Sorry, it's just something of a hobby of mine. Always thought if I wasn't Bann I'd like to try my hand at restoring an old house or two. Still might give it a go once Danae takes over.”

I stared at him. “Seriously? Every time I think I have you figured out, you come out with something new and strange.”

“Those of us who can't spend the day throwing lightning bolts around have to find other ways to entertain ourselves.”

“Kai? Emil? Come have a look at this.” While we'd been talking, Dorian had cautiously proceeded farther down the hallway. He was standing in front of some sort of plaque mounted on the wall.

We joined him and he refreshed and directed his light at it. 

“You wanted to know what era, Emil? Well, this is a very early version of the Pavus crest.”

“Were they even Pavuses then?” I asked.

“Oh, yes, we used to be a prolific bunch,” Dorian said. “Not as prolific as you Trevelyans, but even then they were all looking with an eye toward improving the stock.”

“So how early are we talking?” Like the floor, the crest was dulled by the passage of maker knew how many years, but it was intact.

“Some time in the Black Age is my guess,” he said, tracing along a graceful line in the crest with his index finger.

“Five hundred years?” Father said. “I've heard you mages tend to be long-lived, but that's a bit much.”

“I'd just like to know how all these wankers seem to keep surviving untold centuries and why every damn one of them seems to be mad, evil or both,” I said. “Not to mention, now we're duty bound to find this thing and do something about it before it sets out on whatever mad vendetta it's undoubtedly forming.”

“It also ruined the dance floor and invaded our house. Even if it never leaves whatever lair it's fashioned down here, I cannot accept its moving in,” Dorian said.

“It probably doesn't like house pets,” I added. “Those sorts never do.”

“Unless it's to eat,” Father added with ghoulish cheer.

“Then we'd best find and evict them. Otherwise next thing you know their good-for-nothing friends have shown up and you're finding them in the main house raiding the liquor cabinet and getting crumbs on the furniture.”

We were keeping our voices low as we moved down the hall. There were paintings along the length of it, but most of them had faded and crumbled away to the point where they were unidentifiable. The air smelled flat and unpleasant, like things had rotted and died there, but it was so long ago there was just a ghost of the scent remaining. And this might just have been my imagination, but there was an ugly feel to the place. I was convinced bad things had happened there back in its heyday.

I doubt I was the only one, because we all had our weapons at the ready.

“Is it right to find it reassuring that they had dreadful taste in wallpaper?” Dorian said.

The wallpaper in question was olive green with narrow, vertical red and white stripes. Punctuating the stripes every handsbreadth were illustrated bunches of frowsy pink and white flowers. Even faded, it looked terrible.

“It would bother you more if they had exquisite taste?” I asked.

“It would suggest some sort of possible familial commonality that I'm sure I wouldn't wish to accept.”

“Ah, like my having to admit I'm related to The Aunts.”

“Don't feel bad; they're my sisters,” Father said. “You know, the times I have been involved in hunting down brigands and the like it was never this cheerful. In fact, on the whole it was rather grim and most of the talk was about what should be done to the miscreants when we caught up with them.”

“The joys of posse life: listing the many ways in which your quarry’s backside will be kicked before their inevitable capture or execution,” Dorian said.

“Is the witty repartee a mage thing, or just the two of you?” Father asked.

“It’s a familiarity thing. When you’ve done this sort of thing as much as we have, grim gets dull and annoying. This is much more conducive to retaining your sanity,” I said. 

“Although some of it’s probably us. It’s simply not in our nature to limit ourselves to terse grunts about doing bodily harm when there are so many other observations to be made,” Dorian said.

“True. Plus we don’t know what this thing is or what it’s done, so there’s very little fuel for a proper revenge fantasy,” I added.

Dorian stopped and held a warning hand up. “Something at or near the end of the hall.”

Father raised an eyebrow and I explained quietly, “He works with spirits associated with death. They're uncommonly good at sensing things that are potentially deadly, and they often let him know.”

“Handy talent to have,” he murmured.

We made our light dimmer and pulled in close, proceeding down the hall with added caution. At the end it turned to the right, but what dominated our attention was the portrait. It hung on the wall at the very end where it was guaranteed to command attention. It was something like seven feet tall and three wide, so I assumed the man depicted in it was life size. 

The portrait was also perfect. I could see no cracking, flaking or fading anywhere; it may as well have been hung yesterday. Its colours were vibrant, the frame simple wood but richly finished.

“I take it this is our intruder,” Dorian said.

“Or someone who really, really likes him?” I added.

We studied the portrait from a safe distance. The artist had gone out of their way to make it dramatic. The man was standing in front of a large picture window. There was a storm outside, complete with a flash of lightning tearing across the darkened sky, rain dripping down the window, and the shapes of trees bent by wind in the background. The room he was in looked dedicated to the concept of red. What showed of the walls was dark red, the end of a nearby chair or divan was lighter red, the open curtains were red. Even the polished wood floor had a reddish tint to it.

There was a pile of human skulls stacked in a neat pyramid just to the right of the man, and a naked elf on his left. The elf was on its knees, long hair obscuring its features, shadows obscuring its gender. The elf was bleeding from a lovingly rendered series of gashes on its sides and thighs. The artist had chosen a shade of bright, pulmonary red for the blood, and further made sure the gashes were as realistically rendered as possible.

The man himself was slim (which probably meant skinny when you took away artistic license), skin a few shades lighter than Dorian’s. He had dark hair that was combed straight back, with a long braid draped over one shoulder. His pale blue eyes were narrow, his nose a little like Dorian’s but narrower and beakier. He had thin lips that were fixed in what came across as a nasty smile. 

According to Dorian, he was dressed in clothing from at least the Black Age if not before. It involved lots of drapey fabrics in several shades of red, high-heeled black ankle boots, gold clasps and embellishments, and to top it off, a huge black cape with a high collar and a blood-red lining. I thought it looked ridiculous.

“Any idea what makes this dangerous?” I asked.

“Other than it could put you right off red meat,” Father muttered.

“Aside from incredible bad taste? Not sure, but I have a few thoughts. Passing it without paying it the correct obeisance might trigger an attack of some sort. Or if this is him somehow brought back to life, he could be using it to watch for intruders, meaning that he now knows we're here,” Dorian said.

“Lovely. Even if it's the first alternative, who knows what the correct obeisance might be. I'm sure it was something distasteful,” I said.

“You could burn it,” Father suggested.

We both shook our heads. 

“Not a wise idea,” Dorian said. “That portrait was magically preserved down here for centuries. I'd wager it's also magically protected.”

“If this is supposed to be him on a happy day, he was clearly a nasty piece of work. I'm sure there were people who would have loved to burn this portrait, yet here it is,” I embellished.

“Well, we certainly can't stand here waiting for it to tell us what it's apt to do,” Dorian said.

Father had wandered closer and was squinting at the bottom of the portrait. “Since our friend is either aware of us or not, would one of you mind shining some light here?”

I obliged him, moving closer as I said, “Do you see something?”

“I believe he's given us his name. I don't suppose that holds power over him like in the tales?”

“Sadly, no,” I said with a slight laugh. “What are you looking at?”

He pointed as Dorian came alongside us. “See? Lovely little etched plaque there. Also the only thing that doesn't look pristine and the tarnish is making it difficult to read.”

Dorian bent closer, though he avoided touching it. I got ready to defend him anyway. “How delightful. It appears he is a relative. Magister Drusus Caecina Pavus.” He straightened up and moved back to what we felt was a safe distance, looking thoughtful.

“Magister? You must have run across him in your genealogies,” I said.

“I'm trying to think. There are so bloody many of them.”

We waited quietly while Dorian thought. I watched the dark, empty hallway to our right, but nothing stirred.

“I believe I've got it,” he said slowly. “Drusus Caecina Pavus. The middle name was imperative, because Drusus was a very popular name more than once in Tevinter history.”

Father grinned. “Did you know it's for that reason that all the commanding officers in the south go by their first names?”

“How so?” Dorian perked up at the opportunity to collect more odd trivia.

“Well, I was always told it was a Trevelyan behind it, but who really knows. The story is, years ago the noble families in the south were all faithfully following the tradition of sending all but the first two offspring into the service. There were fewer noble families back then, all of whom held onto their positions rabidly. Part of the way they did so was to have large families so there would be no chance of anyone wresting power from them. As a result, the top echelons of the military, the Templars and the Chantry were positively choked with Trevelyans, Couslands, Amells, Vaels and a handful of others.” He paused to take a drink from his waterskin. 

“Anyway, apparently the final straw came for one of the Trevelyan Templars — a fellow named Wilberg — when he overheard some of the common soldiers talking. There were so many Trevelyan commanders that they'd taken to identifying them by nicknames, and he heard his squad members referring to him as Fennec Face. Apparently he raised such a stink about it, they allowed him to change his designation to Commander Wilberg. Of course, once he got away with it, the others wouldn't hear of not being able to do the same, and ever since all our top commanders have gone by their first names.”

Dorian laughed. “That is ridiculous enough that it must be true. Did you know that story, amatus?”

“As Father was telling it I started to remember, but I'd forgotten that over the years,” I admitted.

“Of course, up here it's the last name that carries all the weight,” Dorian continued. “Which brings us back around to Drusus here. What little I remember of him is sketchy. He never had children despite two or three different marriages, and he disappeared under a cloud.”

Father raised an eyebrow. “Literally?”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “No."

“Just checking.” Father smirked. “This is the land of magic, after all.”

“Magic and rabid record-keeping,” Dorian amended. He frowned, stroking the patch of hair under his lower lip. “Which is what makes this so terribly odd. Drusus Caecina Pavus just…disappears from the records with nothing mentioned about a date of death or anything. I'd always assumed it was because he hadn't done anything of record and the lack of children made him a dynastic failure, but perhaps there's more to it.”

“If it's him,” I hedged. “We're assuming a lot based on one mysteriously well-preserved portrait.”

“Which happens to be in a mysteriously well-preserved house buried far below our house,” Dorian said. “Speaking of which, shall we see what cunning surprises my maybe-ancestor has in store for us?”

“Have we decided we don't care about what sort of danger the portrait poses?”

“Since there's no way to guess what it is, I suppose so.”

“It probably wants you to cut someone and feed it blood,” I said. “Fuck it. I'll go first. Cover me.”

“Perhaps I should go first; it is a Pavus we seem to be after.”

I grinned at him. “Yeah, but I've got The Coat.”

“The Coat doesn't do you any good if he decides to send a bolt through your skull, you know,” he said sternly.

“Well, that's why you're backing me up.”

I made sure my coat was secure and I had spells and weapons at the ready, then walked past the portrait a few paces into the hall. We all waited, but nothing happened.

“Father should go next,” I said. “For all we know the thing'll trigger once the last person passes it.”

He made it with no trouble. Dorian then cast a barrier on himself while I did the same for Father and me. He stepped past the portrait and we waited again. I kept expecting something deadly to come hurtling down the hall at us, but it remained dark and silent.

“Well _that_ was underwhelming,” Dorian said.

“It has been several hundred years. Maybe whatever was supposed to happen wore out or seized up,” I theorized.

“Are your spirits often wrong like that?” Father asked.

Dorian frowned. “No, they're normally not. I'm not sure what—”

The floor dropped out from under us.


	112. Basement - The Murder Room / Deeper

We didn't plunge far before we landed on a slick, inclined surface that sent us hurtling downwards. I'd ended up in front. I cast a light and saw we were in some sort of tunnel made of polished metal that, like the portrait, seemed freakishly well-preserved. There were what looked like sharpened metal blades sticking out all along the sides of the chute, but they hadn't been given the same preservation spell and as I slid past them they snapped and crumbled against my coat and boots. Both Dorian and my father were sufficiently well-armoured that I wasn't worried about them, but back when all the stuff was new those blades must have sliced people from head to foot on the way down.

I flew out the end of the chute, which was situated halfway up a wall, and landed heavily on my back, hitting my head hard on the stone floor. I saw a bright flash of light and things went unfocused for a few seconds. While I was trying to get my senses functioning properly, first Dorian then Father barrelled out of the chute. Naturally they both landed on me, knocking what little breath I'd managed to regain back out of me. I suppose I should be happy I cushioned their fall.

They both stood up swearing. I stayed where I was. My coat had done its usual exemplary job of protecting my body, but my head was starting to pound. 

As soon as he realized I hadn't gotten up, Dorian knelt next to me. “Amatus? Are you all right?”

I blinked slowly at him. “I think so. Just got the wind knocked out of me and I hit my head pretty hard when I landed.”

“Can you sit up?”

I indicated I could, but he helped anyway. Father was now on my other side, looking worried. I pulled my knees up and slouched forward, resting my arms along my lower legs and allowing my head to drop forward. It was pounding and making me feel slightly sick.

“Let me have a look at that,” Dorian said, moving behind me. He muttered _Kaffas_ and probed carefully around the spot that had struck the floor.

I said, “Ow.”

“It's scraped and bleeding a touch and you've got quite a spectacular knot developing there,” he reported. “I'm going to cast a healing spell.”

“Not one of those combination ones you've been working on. You can't spare that sort of power when we don't know what we're up against.”

“Don't worry, I'm just going to stick to my usual, thoroughly unimpressive ones.”

“You don't need to. I'm sure I'll be fine aside from the headache.”

“Cast the spell,” Father said in a flat, _don't even think about arguing_ tone.

I turned my head enough to look at him. “I don't think—”

His mien was equally flat. “No, you don't talk. I once saw a man die from this kind of thing. He seemed fine after it happened. A while later he started complaining he felt dizzy and unwell. We told him to have a lie down. A few hours later he was dead. A physician friend told me later his brain had swelled inside his skull until it killed him. He was twenty-seven. Dorian, cast the spell.”

He did, and I have to admit I felt much better. I sat up straighter and glared at him. “You put extra power in that.”

“After Emil's story? Of course I did.”

“You're not a natural healer. You'll wear yourself out.”

“I brought lyrium. If we run across something nasty before I've recovered, I'll drink some. Speaking of which…" He fished a healing potion out of a pouch on his belt. “Drink this. No point in taking chances when it’s unnecessary.”

I grunted assent and downed it. “Well. Thank you. Both of you. Makes up for you both landing on top of me, I suppose.”

They helped me to my feet. I felt wobbly for a few seconds, then things settled back to normal. We made a slow circuit of the room. At first glance it didn't look like much, but once you started paying attention…

“See the inlay in the floor?” Dorian pointed. 

There was a design taking up a good half the floor. It was a rather attractive geometric design, all smooth angles and curves snaking in a pattern that ultimately brought the lines together into one channel. Rather than simple inlay, it was a deep groove that had been either meticulously carved or perhaps magicked by an earth mage. Then the grooved design had been smoothed, polished, and coated with some sort of hard, durable material. Where the 'stem' of the design ended, there was a small but deep basin coated with the same material.

“I take it you noticed all the blades affixed to the sides of that chute,” I said.

“Of course. Not difficult to extrapolate the purpose of the pretty design.”

“Are you saying what it sounds like?” Father asked.

“If you're thinking blood mage, you're right,” I said. “Quite the sophisticated setup this wanker had, too.”

“The magic floor disappears from under you, you drop into the chute, and as you're hurtling down to the cellar all those little blades are slicing you up,” Dorian elaborated. “Not enough to kill, mind you.”

“By the time you hit the ground, you're bleeding like a stuck tusket. It goes into the grooves of the design and makes a pretty picture on the floor,” I continued.

“Eventually it flows into the catch basin, and Drusus and his friends use it to power whatever ghastly spells they're casting that night. Or perhaps they just found this a relaxing variety of art appreciation,” Dorian finished.

“That's all well and good, but I'd say the more important question is, where's the exit?” Father said. “Don't tell me you have to bleed someone for the door to appear.”

“I've read locked room mysteries before, but rarely one where you need to find the door,” Dorian said with a faint smile.

“What you say is possible, Father, but given most people are lazier than that, I'm betting it's just well-concealed,” I said.

“Then let’s have a look, shall we?” Dorian said. A moment later he winced, expression growing grim.

Curious what caused that, I switched my sight over to the magical spectrum and the room… _changed_. The sheer ugliness of it was enough to make me wince also and close my eyes for a moment. I turned slowly, taking it all in, and murmured, " _Venhedis_." The amount of blood that had been spilled in that place was beyond anything I'd ever imagined. Even now, centuries later, the energy of it left a permanent imprint in the stones themselves.

“Dorian, are you looking at this?” I said.

“Looking? My spirits have been having fits since we landed. The amount of death and suffering concentrated in this room is overwhelming them. If this is merely the foyer, I'm not sure we want to know what the rest of this place is like.”

“A lot of people never made it past this room.” 

I'm not particularly sensitive to spirits and psychic remnants, but the concentrated pain and misery that had collected in that room was giving me brief, unsettling vignettes of things that had happened there, like flashes of one of the hells of the old gods.

_Strung up by the wrists on chains bolted into the ceiling, shoulders pulled from their sockets, while a group of men and women make wagers on how long it will take for the weight of your body to tear your arms right off, calling dibs on the first spurts of blood when it happens;_

_Held in place by a binding spell while a pretty young mage who couldn't be a day over eighteen burns designs into your flesh;_

_Chained spread-eagle; a giggling mage inserts a specially carved staff into you and starts casting lightning;_

_A combination of chains and binding spells hold you in place while they skin you alive, magic keeping you conscious; two of the mages, high on a drug, lick blood from your exposed muscles while the others laugh…_

There was more: rape of every conceivable sort, torture by magic, torture by conventional means, constant, casual humiliation and false offers of respite from a never-ending procession of smirking, hungry-eyed mages. The whole thing was sickening and starting to give me a headache all over again. 

There was a woman I'd killed a year ago who would have found that room a little slice of heaven.

“Are you seeing what I'm seeing?” I asked.

“If it's an intermittent historical travelogue of concentrated depravity, yes. We need to get out of this room,” Dorian answered, his face pale and tight with distaste.

He walked over to a section of wall that I'd also noticed for being somewhat cleaner, with an outline that looked like an arched doorway when you braved the magical spectrum and all that old blood and pain and detritus of dark magic. His death spirits were swirling about him agitatedly, a purple-black nimbus that brought little whiffs of the Fade with it. He murmured something to them and they left him to swarm along that section of wall, streaks of colour with hints of bone and sorrow that seemed benign compared to the flashes of past atrocities that kept trying to force their way into my mind.

In a few minutes they'd settled into a pattern around one circular spot. We went close to investigate.

“It takes a triggering spell,” I said. “There's been more magic cast at this spot than anywhere else.”

Dorian squinted at it then gave me a crooked smile. “Fancy that. I recognize the signature of at least one of the triggering spells.”

“You do? What is it?”

“Look closely. You of all people should see it.”

I did as he said. “Well, fuck me.”

“Not here, amatus.” He made a face. “Yech.”

“Ha-ha. I'm just a little surprised anyone in that lot had the knight enchanter specialization.”

“Apparently depravity crosses all colours of the magical spectrum. Care to conjure that sword of yours and get us out of here?”

“Gladly.” I cast the spell and a longsword appeared in my right hand. It would only last a few minutes, but that was more than enough time to bring it up and thrust it hard into the circular patch Dorian's spirits were outlining. 

There was a flash and a smell of ozone as the sword bit into the wall that wasn't a wall. My sword discorporated as the spell on the door used its power. There was a grinding noise and the door-shaped section of wall swung ponderously towards us. It got partway open and ground to a halt.

We didn't hesitate; whatever was on the other side would have to try hard to be worse than the images already assaulting Dorian and me, and there was enough room to squeeze through. Dorian went first, casting a barrier on all of us just in case, and Father and I followed close behind.

We emerged into a dark, dusty corridor that smelled of dirt and old rot. The floor was stained stone, the walls all large, heavy stone blocks. There weren't any cobwebs in that empty place; even spiders couldn't find anything nourishing.

“Not that I don't appreciate your finding the exit, but what was so urgent?” Father asked. “You looked like something terrible was happening.”

“Something was,” I said. “Be grateful we don't tell you anything more. Whoever lived here was a monster. Dorian, do you have any idea where we even are now?”

He shook his head. “I didn't know any of this existed. I might have guessed until we went hurtling down that amusement ride for bored sadists — or would that be masochists? — but that extinguished any sense of direction I had.”

“Well, at the moment there's only one way to go, so we may as well see what other amusements are offered,” I said. “Mind you, I do find it reassuring that the door didn't work as if it was just oiled yesterday.”

“If it is old Drusus, let's just hope his first trick wasn't to resurrect all his friends,” Dorian said.

“He couldn't actually do that, could he?” Father sounded like he was discussing the weather. Apparently once he'd decided to accept magic, he'd decided to apply his usual stoic equanimity to all of it.

“Probably not,” Dorian said. “We're still not sure how _he_ came back, if it is him.”

As we were talking, we'd been walking at a cautious pace down the corridor. There was no sign that anything had been disturbed down there for years. Of course, Drusus (or whatever it was) hadn't been subjected to the fabulous disappearing floor. Chances were we were the first people to walk that corridor in centuries.

“Nice trick with the sword, by the way,” Father said. “Do you also know how to use it?”

I shrugged. “I learned the basics, though I’ll never be any kind of swordsman. It doesn’t last long enough to get into a proper contest. It’s really more of a surprise factor, or something to turn to in an emergency.”

“Not a fan of close combat?”

“No. I can hold my own in a fight, but combat magic is most effective at a distance.”

He said, “Makes sense,” and lapsed into silence. 

The corridor took a graceful arc to the right, leading through an archway into a much larger space. It could have been anything from a big room to a vast cavern; certainly our conservative little lights weren't illuminating any walls nearby.

“If there are giant spiders down here I'm going to be seriously pissed off,” I said.

“What would they eat?” Father asked.

I didn't bother answering.

“So do we stride bravely through the centre of this dread chamber or do we attempt to find a wall and skirt around the perimeter?” Dorian asked.

“We could attempt to see a wall then decide,” I said.

“What if we wake something up?”

I snorted. “If we do it'll probably be giant fucking spiders.”

“Well, if you're not worried, perhaps we should cast a bit more light on this.”

“It's better than standing here in the dark waiting for something to leap out at us.”

So we got Father to stand in between us in case we _did_ wake anything and cast a powerful light spell each. They revealed that the chamber was huge — about the size of the ballroom far above — but not infinite. There didn't seem to be anything spidery, at least.

The entire chamber had been done in what looked like black basalt, no doubt to up the ominous factor. There were long counters and cupboards built in all around the perimeter, some of which still had the remnants of old alchemical and magical equipment strewn on them. There was a thick layer of undisturbed dust over everything; wherever our quarry was, he hadn't come through there. 

In the centre of the room was what I'd come to think of as the typical blood mage altar setup — big stone table with blood grooves cut in it, shackles optional when you could hold your victim magically. At the far side of the chamber was what had once been an elaborate collection of torture devices. Time hadn't been as kind to them, and they were falling to pieces. I considered torching them to finish the job if we had time on the way out. 

What wasn't normal was the floor. All along it at regular intervals were heavy, banded wood lids; the kind with which you'd normally cover a well. “What do you suppose they kept down there?” I said.

“I very much doubt our friend was a dipsomaniac,” Dorian said. 

We approached one of the well covers. “No rot. Not only are they built to withstand a siege engine, but it appears they were spelled too,” I said, crouching down to study it. It had a heavy hinge on one side, and an equally heavy ring at the other. “Want to have a look?”

“I'm sure whatever was there turned to dust long ago,” Dorian said with a shrug.

“Who knows what sort of artifacts might be in there,” Father said.

“I suppose we could have a peek in one of them.” Dorian didn't sound delighted at the prospect.

“Well, let's.” I grabbed the big ring opposite the hinge and lifted it. It came up with an arthritic creak. I gave the ring a yank. It clunked in its setting, sending up a little puff of dust.

Then we all heard it. Deep below, something _shifted_ and made a phlegmy, grunting noise.

I dropped the ring and backed away as the noise elicited more movement and another, louder grunting noise. “On the other hand…”

“I find I've lost any curiosity I may have possessed,” Dorian said. 

Father stood staring at that lid, a vaguely offended look on his face. “Do you expect me to believe something's been alive down there for five _centuries_?”

“You can disbelieve all you want, but I'm not going to open that thing to ask it,” I said.

He glanced at Dorian. “What if that's a member of your staff down there?”

“The dust would have been disturbed. No one's been in here for ages,” I said.

Dorian nodded. “Kai's right. I suggest we head for yon exit before some of his giant spiders decide to join us because things aren't ghastly enough already.”

“Those lids are all closed, aren't they?” I said, squinting across the floor.

“I should hope so.”

Father cast another peeved look at the well coverings. “I assume we'll be sticking to the perimeter on the side without the torture devices?”

“I would still suggest proceeding with caution,” Dorian said. 

We did that. Now that we were aware of the possible contents of the wells, we paid more attention to them. Most were silent and hopefully empty, but twice more we ventured too near one and heard the sounds of something _moving_ down below.

Near the exit we finally saw what we'd all been watching for without acknowledging it — one of the lids was lying cracked and askew next to its well. The floor there had the same thick coating of dust as everywhere else, so we took the risk of assuming it happened long ago and crossed over to have a look.

The hinge on the lid was bent and snapped, and what would have been the underside was scored with dozens of deep scratches. We approached the well cautiously. As Dorian said, that's all we needed was for one of us to mysteriously slip and fall into it. After ensuring there weren't any conveniently crumbling edges or magical traps, we got close enough to the edge to shine a light down into it.

It was just a circular hole in the floor. Its walls were the same black basalt as everything else and sheer enough I didn't see how anything could find any purchase to climb them. It was around twelve feet deep, I'd guess; maybe slightly more. I instructed Dorian to hold onto me and went down to my knees, crawling forward enough to lean over the edge and cast a light deep inside it. It was mostly empty, but at the very bottom…

“Dorian, could you get your spirits to have a look there? Is that bones?”

“Just a moment, amatus.” I felt a brief pulse of magic from him, and a frisson of energy and movement as one or more death spirits dashed past (or perhaps through) me to have a look.

“It's bones, and they're humanoid. It appears to be most of the top half of someone. The bones have been gnawed.”

“Charming.” I backed away from the edge and stood. “With any luck it happened so long ago that whatever did that is dead.”

“Like its friends in the other pits?” Father said drily.

“Perhaps the pits contain a form of preservation spell,” Dorian said, curiosity lighting his eyes.

“Perhaps this is neither the time nor place for a full magical inquiry,” Father retorted.

“Of course not. It's just an interesting question,” I jumped in before anyone could get upset. “Not that I particularly want to come back here after and study it. Let's try to find this wanker, shall we?”

=#=

The chamber exited into another dark, empty corridor. This time there were doors along it. Given that we were hunting for someone — or some _thing_ — it was necessary to check each one.

"How far do you think this complex goes?" I mused as we approached the first door. "I wonder if this was the only underground level." It was of heavy wood with an old-fashioned handle. I opened it carefully, combat spells at the ready. 

"Let’s hope so," Dorian replied as we looked inside. It was a bedroom. "I’ve had quite enough of wandering multi-leveled catacombs. That has got to be one of the tackiest bedroom sets I've ever laid eyes on."

"Wandering catacombs is something you do regularly?" Father said, strolling into the room as if he was considering buying it. "Dorian's right — this is remarkably tasteless."

“When is comes to catacomb-wandering, more than once is more than enough,” I said.

The next two rooms were also bedrooms, both evincing the same bad taste in furnishings. Although everything was ancient and mouldering, you could see the decorator had mixed clashing patterns in loud, mismatched colours for the rugs, curtains and bedding. The wallpaper that remained all consisted of busy floral patterns, and the paintings and carvings on the furniture weren't even the dragons and snakes you might expect in Tevinter — they were poorly-rendered, insipid depictions of chubby babies' faces with vapid expressions. It was shudderingly awful. We agreed it must have been old Drusus's way of torturing even the guests he supposedly liked.

We came to a set of double doors with fancy carvings (animal-headed people and things with tentacles, but they were well-rendered). We kept expecting to find our quarry behind every door and this time was no exception. We agreed this looked like the kind of place you'd find a creature of ancient evil. So of course it turned out to be the library.

The house may have been a nexus of pure evil, but the library was a beautiful, brilliant oasis. It had been layered with preservation spells and if it wasn't for the dust, you'd have thought everything had been placed there earlier in the week. There were bound magical tomes on practically every subject I could imagine. There were illuminated manuscripts. There was an entire section of pigeonholed shelving devoted to nothing but scrolls, maker only knows how old they were. I could go on, but suffice to say it was the kind of library any mage worth the title dreams about. 

Even a cursory look through the big room was enough to make me turn to Dorian and say, “We must have this.”

He nodded, his expression as besotted as I'm sure mine was. “There must be a way to get this up to the house. I'd do it right now if we could.”

“We must still be somewhere on the grounds. It's just a matter of figuring out where,” I mused.

“Speaking of which, this obviously belonged to some Pavus ancestor, so this is mine by right of inheritance,” Dorian said.

“We will have this library,” I stated.

“I'll build it its own outbuilding if need be,” Dorian said.

We slowed our pace as we investigated. The library had corridors made from shelves, and at the end of each was something new. One had a heavily-chained book on a pedestal — when we approached it, I swear it moved, struggling against its bonds. Another had a section of wall that looked for all the world like it had been lifted directly from a dwarven shaperate. Another held a tall, long-leafed potted plant. We assumed it was dead until we approached it and the thing started to move. And at the end of one corridor…

Dorian elbowed me in the ribs.

“Kai. On this side. Look.” He cast light to the end of the corridor opposite the one I'd been investigating.

I looked. 

“You have got to be fucking kidding.”

There at the end of the corridor was a statue of a demented-looking black bear holding a fishing pole: Arvid. A part of my mind — perhaps still affected by that damned dream — expected it to bare its teeth in greeting at any moment.

“Thrilling as this is, shouldn't we rescue your staff and remove the thing that punched a hole in your ballroom floor?” Father said as he leafed through an illustrated tome written in ancient Tevene.

He was right, of course. 

I cast one more disbelieving look at Arvid and followed Dorian and Father.

We warded both the door we'd entered through and the exit, but not before setting a small beacon spell. We didn't know where or how deep we were, but with any luck we'd be able to find the spot to start digging by tracking the pulse of the spell if we couldn't get things out any other way.

The area just outside the library was set up as a reading room; it was rectangular with the exit situated across and a bit to the left from the library exit. There were low, padded benches around the perimeter and a few small tables still in the open main area, though the chairs for them were missing. The floor was inlaid with an intricate mosaic depicting a sunset over Qarinus.

Father noticed first. He wrinkled his nose and said, “Do you boys smell that?”

We sniffed, and Dorian said, “Fasta vass.”

It wasn't difficult to find them. They'd been tossed in the far corner of the room like a couple of used tissues. At first glance I couldn’t identify anything about them other than they were humanoid. 

“I don't suppose you have roaming packs of magically mutated mabari down here,” Father said, lip curling in distaste.

“No,” Dorian said shortly. He'd moved in closer and was studying the bodies. I felt vaguely duty bound to join him — I'd been living at the estate for months now, so I undoubtedly knew those people too.

He nudged one of the bodies with the end of his staff and it sagged toward us. Both had been bled dry, but there wasn't a drop to be seen except that which had stained their skin. They'd also been violated and savaged; I could only hope the majority of it happened after they were dead.

“I know them,” Dorian said softly. “So do you, amatus. The bigger one is Rogerian.”

“The head gardener?” I looked at the human wreckage that lay on the perfectly preserved floor, trying to find something familiar about it.

“See there?” he pointed at an arm. “I recognize the tattoo. It's supposed to be a dragon soaring rampant over a tower, but it came out looking — and I quote — ‘like a winged, long-necked nug mounted on a pin.’ He told me 'never listen to any friend who assures you they do their best work drunk'.” He smiled wanly. “His last name was Florum. He used to joke that his job was his destiny from birth.”

“What's it mean?” I asked.

“Flowers. It was one of the reasons he'd tried to get a dragon tattoo when he was young — he thought it would compensate for his surname. He was always kind to me when I was a boy.”

“He slipped Swivet snacks and never once scolded him for nosing around the gardens,” I said. “Damn.”

“The other one's Desticia. You'd think looking at her she stuck to something like flower arranging, but she was our go-to person for fixing things. Loved tinkering.”

“It's a little hard to tell…was she an elf?”

He nodded. “I don't know much about her personally, but everyone said she's tough and absolutely dependable. Was. She helped set up your workshop, remember?”

I did now. Desticia had been a tiny, raven-haired woman with the energy of five regular people. She adored _things_ — building them, fixing them, figuring out how they worked. We hadn't talked much, since we operated in such different spheres of interest, but she'd given me some pointers on my mini crossbows that would have taken me ages to figure out on my own.

“We'll get the others back.” I knew he was worried about Lucien, but didn't say anything. What we were looking at was terrible enough.

“Yes. We will.” He looked up at me, face set and angry. “Let's go. There's nothing more we can do here.”

=#=

The corridor on the other side of the library convinced us that the murder room we'd landed in had been on the non-public, service side of the old complex. This side was all wainscoted with high-quality, expensively finished wood. Above the wainscoting, the walls were painted a tasteful cream colour. There were paintings running the length of it, and unlike the ones on the floor above, these were magically preserved. It appeared Drusus hadn't been a fan of his relatives, because there were no portraits at all, just beautifully-rendered sceneries.

Dorian had taken point, and now he stopped in front of one of the paintings. “Have a look at this. Could this be the place we're in?”

Father and I joined him. The painting was quite large — the three of us were standing side by side and still had to look to the left and right to see the edges — and depicted a sprawling mansion from an isometric viewpoint. It looked like it had been constructed of black wood (which even I thought was a bit much). Two stories high with lots of multi-paned, shuttered windows, an attached tower, peaky roofs with spiked grillwork around the perimeters — somehow the artist had managed to capture the fact that the house looked hostile. I kept expecting something to walk by one of those windows and leap out of the painting at us. It sounds silly, I know, but magically speaking it was within the realm of possibility.

“It certainly could be,” Father said. “The room we entered first could easily be the tower. It probably contained some sort of stairway, Maker knows what happened to it.”

“If this is that, how is it that we had to descend twenty feet to get to the upper floor?” I said.

“I thought that was probably the ground floor we climbed down to,” Father said.

“Fine, so it lost its upper story. That still doesn't explain its current position and the fact that a great deal of it is still completely intact. Therefore my question stands.”

“What would it take to bury an entire mansion?” Dorian mused. “And why would one want to? Why would one need to?”

“If that's what happened, it was bad enough that none of the families back then would even talk about it,” I said.

“I know, and that's positively unheard of,” Dorian said. “We Altus gossip about _everything_.”

We left the painting behind and continued down the corridor. We could see it ended at a set of wooden doors that made the ones to the library look pedestrian. 

“No service entrance this time,” I said.

“I noticed. There's not so much as a convenient crawlspace just above the door. It rather thwarts our attempts at stealth,” Dorian said.

We got close enough to see the bas reliefs that covered the big double doors. There are some who would bury the place for those alone. I won't go into detail, but they carried on the whole torture/rape/murder motif he seemed so fond of, with embellishments I could have lived without seeing.

“He did have a one-track mind, didn't he?” Dorian said with a faint frown.

“And you wonder why Tevinter has the reputation it does,” Father just couldn't resist saying. 

“The last person I met like that was from the south,” I said. “Tevinter doesn't hold sole ownership of the twisted bastard franchise.”

“Though even I have to admit we have several local outlets,” Dorian said cheerfully.

“So are we seriously going to walk through these doors?” I changed the subject.

“I'm rather at a loss how else to go about it,” Dorian said.

“I don't suppose you can turn invisible,” Father said.

“Not invisible enough, and not for long enough,” I said. “Besides, he'd know something was up when the door opened.”

“If it is Drusus,” Dorian said. “For all we know it's his eviller twin sister who's back.”

“Before we commit to the brazen approach, we should make sure there isn't a perfectly sensible secondary door covered by an illusion or something,” I said. “I really don't relish the idea of walking through those doors just to get cold-cocked or worse by that twisted old wanker. _Or_ his eviller twin sister.”

We searched thoroughly, but couldn't turn up one way other than the big double doors to proceed. We moved back closer to the library to strategize.

“First things first, it'd be mad for all three of us to go in together,” I said.

“Agreed,” Dorian said, “And I'm sorry, Emil, but if you were thinking about volunteering, don't. Whatever we're up against is magically powerful and you wouldn't stand a chance against them in a one-on-one fight.”

“Understood,” Father said. “I've maintained since we left that I'm best utilized as your non-magical secret weapon.”

That left Dorian and I arguing over who was going to go in first and alone. Dorian maintained that as it was likely his relative that had caused all this nastiness, he should be the first to confront it. I was just as adamant that it should be me because I had The Coat, unconventional weaponry and no hook for sympathetic magic because I was unrelated to him. It. Whatever you'd call it.

“Not necessarily,” Dorian shot back. “Remember, we are very distantly related. For all you know, that pretty young thing with the fire fetish was part of my family and fled south five centuries ago, where she met a Trevelyan and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“You saw her too?”

“She appears to have left quite an impression in that room. I wish I knew who she was.”

“Do either of you have a plan once we do find this creature?” Father asked.

“You mean aside from kill it?” I asked.

“Yes. What if you're unable to?”

“Well…I don't think _reason with it_ is going to be an option this time. If we can't kill it, then I suppose incapacitate it would be the next best thing.”

Dorian nodded. “It's not elegant, but it is what we need to do. And amatus, if it is Drusus Pavus returned from the dead somehow, may I remind you that I'm the Necromancer here, thus the one most likely to be able to banish him back to whatever dusty corner of the void he's been lurking in.”

“Which is why I'll need you backing me up if I can't handle him,” I countered.

“And if _not being able to handle_ translates into him killing you?”

I gave him a patently blank look. “Well, you're a Necromancer. I'd expect you to bring me back.”

“You picked a fine time to be a smartass.”

I pulled Dorian out of Father's earshot (fortunately it seemed he understood, because he let us alone) and said quietly, “I am not going to watch you get killed again. Call me weak or selfish, but I can't bear that. You have to let me take that chance because you've got much more ability to bring me back from the brink. You know what I'm saying is true.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head in denial. “Kai, no. No one's going to get killed, firstly.” He opened his eyes, meeting mine, his voice tight with tension as he said, “Need I remind you I've seen you nearly die three times? What makes you think I could bear someone finally succeeding?”

I smiled. “Because you'll bring me back. And if you can't, well, at least I know you'll kill them back for me.”

“Then we should go in together.”

“No, we shouldn't.” I sighed. “If you want to be utterly practical about it, it's more important you survive. You got your way, love. You're doing important things now; things that could theoretically change the course of this entire land. But if you're not here to oversee it, I don't know that Mae could keep it going on her own. I already _did_ my important thing. In the grand scheme of things, I'm expendable.”

The look on his face was equal parts fear and sorrow. “Not to me, you're not.”

I pulled him into an embrace (a part of me still marvelling that I could dully feel him with my left forearm) and said softly, “Thank you. But you know I'm right.”

He hugged me fiercely then pulled back, his hands still resting on either side of my waist. “I hope you know I find this practical streak of yours remarkably aggravating. It's one of your less endearing qualities.”

I smirked. “I love you too, you self-absorbed bastard. So let's embarrass my father by kissing each other with wanton abandon and get this over with so we can go home, shall we?”

As an answer he pulled me back to him and did his best to live up to the idea of _wanton abandon_. I'm tempted to spend a few paragraphs going on about how much I love him and why, but it would undoubtedly come out sounding mawkish and insipid. Let's just say that depth of feeling is simultaneously wonderful and terrifying and I, at least, have trouble translating it to text. Perhaps because I don't want to; quantifying it feels cheap.

We went back to Father, who was facing away pretending to have great interest in a rather dull painting of sheep in a field overlooking some seacoast.

“It's decided. I'll be going in first,” I said.

He looked at me gravely. “Don't go in there expecting your abilities are guaranteed to outstrip this thing's, son. I know you're powerful and talented, but we don't even rightly know what the creature is.”

“Listen to your father, Kai,” Dorian added.

I smiled. “I know. I've been forcibly reminded repeatedly that I'm far from invincible. I wish I'd thought ahead enough to bring a set of breakable dragons.”

I was referring to a sympathetic magic spell I'd used before where each person takes part of an object that's had the spell cast on it. In the event that one person gets into trouble, they break their half and the other half shatters as well, alerting the person holding it to come running. A set of little carved dragons had saved Dorian's life.

“I wish you had too,” Dorian said. “I'm at least putting a tracking spell on you.”

“I'll just be in the next room,” I objected.

“We can't be sure that's where you'll remain,” he insisted, “or have you forgotten our precipitous arrival down here already?”

I had to admit he had a point, so I let him put two tracking spells on me — one on my clothes and one on myself.

Obviously, if they heard any signs of trouble they'd come after me immediately, Dorian going in big and flashy while, with any luck, Father snuck in without our foe noticing. If things were quiet, I'd either let them know in a few minutes or they'd enter around a quarter hour later. Finally no one could think of anything else to say.

I checked my weapons, readied some spells, settled The Coat more firmly on me, drank some water and took a deep breath. “Well. See you soon.”

Father nodded. Dorian pulled me into a rough embrace, murmuring, “Don't you _dare_ get yourself killed, maimed or mindwiped. I absolutely forbid it.”

“I'll do my best,” I said. “Now make sure you can't be seen when I open the door.”

They backed off out of sight. 

I stepped up to the right hand door and stopped casting light. The darkness around me was sudden and complete and felt like it had weight to it. I had to stand still for several moments while I waited for my eyes to adjust.

I grasped the handle, which turned smoothly. Time to see what sort of thing our intruder was.

I stepped through.


	113. Monster

The door clicked shut. It was a soft click, but still I waited to see if anything reacted before sidling to the left. The room was wide and long enough that I couldn't see the side or back walls. It was lit by several sconces containing veilfire — that green-tinted, magical fire we ran across so frequently in the Inquisition when exploring ancient dungeons and ruins. They were mounted on square pillars running in parallel lines about fifteen feet apart from each other, forming a corridor of sorts down the centre of the room. At a guess, it had started out life as a receiving hall. The floor was all some sort of polished rock — marble or granite, perhaps — of light grey with a repeating pattern of black, stylized snake-like dragons. 

The hall was empty except for a three-tiered dais about a third of the way in, centred in the corridor of pillars. Atop the dais was a large throne, but the lighting wasn't good enough to see if there was anyone seated on it. I considered someone could have deliberately left the throne in a pool of darkness. A quick look in the magical spectrum revealed nothing except the bright veilfire and the presence of a lot of ambient magic, both of which obscured anything that might be lurking. 

I could sense no sound or movement. The veilfire gave everything an eerie cast and left large areas of the hall in shadow. I didn't like the pool of black surrounding the throne but didn't want to chance casting a light quite yet.

Having in mind to skirt around the edges of the hall, I cast a _don't notice me_ spell and moved quietly to the left, trying to avoid the fractured pools of flickering light from the veilfire. I kept my movements slow, as the last thing I wanted was to get overconfident and trip over something.

I'd barely registered the surge of magic when a burst of white light blinded me. Closing my eyes didn't help — I'd already been dazzled by it and could only stand there blinking. I couldn't dodge out of the way because I had no idea where to dodge in the big, empty room. I cast a barrier, but knew that was probably of dubious virtue.

And then the pain struck me like a living thing. 

I hadn't even sensed another surge of magic. One moment I was standing there in my barrier, blinking as I waited for my eyes to recover, and the next thing I was on the ground screaming as I felt the worst pain I'd ever experienced assaulting me everywhere at once. I can't even begin to describe it properly; it was too _huge_. Just take the worst pain you've ever experienced, increase it tenfold, and you _might_ get close if you've ever had the misfortune to be in agony.

It seemed to go on for an eternity, and no Dorian came bursting through the door to make it stop even though it was ripping screams out of me until I couldn't catch my breath enough to scream any more.

It stopped just as abruptly as it had begun.

I unfolded from the foetal position I'd instinctively gone into and lay on my back, gasping and hoping my heart would stop trying to pound its way out of my chest.

I heard footsteps coming toward me and tried to focus as someone stopped a few paces away. My eyes were watering and even though the pain was gone, my body was trying to shiver, expecting it to return any second.

“Well, well. I wondered who was intruding in my house. I assume you are one of those living in that eyesore they built on top. Here to rescue your friends, perhaps? Or as I see you are a mage, reclaim your household staff from me?”

The voice was…odd. It was kind of tenor, but had a weirdly liquid, guttural quality to it that was very unsettling. Its accent was impossible to place. I focused in on legs in a pair of trousers that had been patterned and magicked to look like shimmering black and red snake scales and worked my way up from there.

It was Drusus Caecina Pavus but…it wasn't. It looked like a copy of the man made by a talented amateur sculptor. The features were all there, but they were all slightly wrong. 

“What are you?” I said. It came out a gaspy croak.

It glared at me and the pain struck again, just for a few seconds but it left me trying not to whimper in front of the creature.

“Did I say you could talk?” it snapped.

I shook my head mutely. It didn't hurt, but my body was convinced it was going to any moment.

“Get up. Let me look at you,” it said.

“Can't,” I whispered.

“Don't be a malapert. You certainly can. Perhaps you would like more incentive to do as I say?”

Now, in the tales at this point the hero would undoubtedly surge to his feet with a triumphant roar and take the unnatural thing apart with their weapon of choice because they can shake off pain like a dog does water.

It doesn't work that way. At least, not for me. Even though the pain was gone, I felt weak and shaky and anxious. Also, whatever the creature really was, it had strong magic. I could sense the power emanating from it. The magic felt old and…I don't know whether to call it _unnatural_ or just completely _unfamiliar_. And yet there was something about it…

I got to my feet and made no move to attack.

“Follow me. I would sit,” it said. 

I followed. I was trying desperately to shake the weirdly helpless feeling that was gripping me and having trouble doing so.

It sat, looking me up and down with an expression that was either peevish or perplexed; I couldn't tell which.

It said, “Remove those weapons. Put them over there.” It pointed to spot at the far end of the dais.

I made like I was going to comply, unbelting my coat. My hand just wrapped around my crossbow; I was fully intending to shoot it in the face and watch its head explode. Instead I found myself back on the ground, screaming. The pain that thing could inflict simply wasn't something you could become inured to — at least, not in the amount of time I'd been subjected to it. It let it go on long enough that I seriously began to wonder if I was going to die.

It stopped its assault, watching expressionlessly as I waited for my heart to decide to start beating normally rather than giving out entirely. I noticed one of its eyes was perfect and pale blue, while the other looked unfinished and muddy.

I got slowly to my feet, that horrible, weak feeling back in full force. I glared at the thing, but did as it commanded, setting my crossbows, bolts and hunting knife down carefully.

It said, “Take off your clothes.”

That was annoying enough to snap me out of it. “Why?” I said with a little more strength.

“Because you were armed to the teeth and probably have holdouts under all that armour. Additionally, being unclothed makes people feel vulnerable. Do it.”

And while it watched, I did what it demanded. My one little act of defiance was to pile all my things neatly and ward them so only Dorian or myself could touch them. That seemed to amuse the creature, and it allowed me to finish without bringing the pain back.

It looked me up and down then, its eyes dwelling longer on the scars on my left side than anything else. It stood and circled me. Unlike Corypheus those many years ago, it wasn't much taller than me. “You really think you're going to be back for your belongings?” it said.

I didn't answer. It didn't seem to care. Instead it _sniffed_ me.

“There is something unsettlingly familiar about you,” it said. “Why? Speak.”

“I don't know. I don't even know what you are.”

“I am Drusus Caecina Pavus. I am also more than that,” it said with a superior sneer. “They deemed Drusus too depraved and disposed of him down here. It proved a useful punishment, don't you think?”

What I thought was _Venhedis, not another mad demigod_ , but I wasn't stupid enough to say that. Instead I said, “What do you intend to do?”

“Hm. More of this.” He hit me with just enough of a blast to make me double over. “I will find out why you unsettle me then I will eventually kill you, though that may take some time. That is really all you need to know. Follow me.”

I followed it. I was trying to do more than obey the evil wanker, though. I was studying it in the magical spectrum, because damned if I didn't feel the same thing — there was something vexingly familiar about it. 

It dropped the wards on a heavy wooden door on the right side of the hall and motioned me through. I did as it said. It closed the door behind me, plunging the new room into darkness. Then, just to be a bastard, I assume, it hit me with another blast that dropped me back to the ground.

=#=

By the time I could stand again, the door was warded shut. Feeling weak and sick from the repeated assaults, I cast light. I was too exhausted to feel anything as I looked around the room. 

I'd found the rest of the household staff. They were all in the same state of undress, most of them were sleeping, and most of them looked even worse than I felt. Right then all I cared about was finding a place to sit down. I made my way over to the most familiar face and dropped heavily onto the floor next to him.

“Dominus Kai,” Lucien said. “I don't think _good to see you_ is quite appropriate at the moment. This is also…quite a bit more of you than I'd ever planned on seeing.” He looked grubby and exhausted, hair sticking out from his scalp in disorderly wisps and dark circles under his eyes. He had his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. He had more body hair than I'd imagined.

I managed a weak smile. “The feeling's mutual. I think under the circumstances it's fine if you just call me Kai.” I felt like I'd been beaten on; like I could just curl up in a corner and go to sleep. At that moment I didn't even care that I was sitting bare-arsed on a cold marble floor.

“I don't see Dorian.” His tone made it a question.

“He was supposed to come in at the first sign of trouble. Not sure how he didn't hear me screaming my lungs out.”

“Then he's safe?” Lucien looked marginally relieved.

“I hope so. What _happened_ , Lucien?”

He sighed. “I don't suppose you have any water?”

I thought _where would I carry it?_ but said, “With my things out in the other room.”

“Ah. Of course. I apologize. It's been a very long…how long has it been?”

I had to think about that. “I don't quite know how long we've been down here, but all in all? Less than a full day.”

He stared at me with something like disbelief. His eyes were grey-green; I'd never really noticed that before. “A day? That's all? It feels like a year. He's already killed four people and bled the rest of us repeatedly. But he must have bled you too.”

“No, he hasn't,” I said. “There's something about me that bothers him. He must be afraid to do that before he figures out what it is.”

“Count yourself lucky. All the healing spells in the world aren't going to replace blood.”

I shifted position, leaning back against the wall. I was sufficiently recovered that I was starting to get very uncomfortable, not to mention chilled. I cast a small heat spell and said again, “What happened? How did he do all this?”

Lucien shook his head mournfully. “He knocked on the front door.”

####

To be accurate, a young man had knocked on the door. A steward — Nico was his name — answered the knock. The man asked who was in charge, so Nico had fetched Lucien.

The man had said, in heavily-accented common tongue, “The rightful owner of this house has returned. You will welcome Magister Pavus and assemble the staff in preparation to hand this property over.”

Lucien had been both confused and angry. Aquinea wouldn't do anything like this — she'd just walk into the house. So who..?

The creature strode in as he was thinking that. 

_(If you think it looks unfinished now, Lucien added with a grimace.)_

It wasn't terribly tall or broad, but Lucien was taken aback by its sheer _wrongness_. From a distance it may have looked like a man – it had done a particularly good job with the hair – but up close you realized everything about it was off. Angles and proportions were just incorrect enough that the whole of the creature seemed more terrible, somehow, than if it had simply designed itself to look demonic. It radiated a powerful magical signature Lucien had never encountered before. He began mentally preparing for a battle.

It had announced itself as Drusus Caecina Pavus and told him again to assemble the staff. Lucian replied that individual had been dead for centuries and told it to get out, allowing a touch of his own power to show itself.

The creature wasn't one for arguing. It had hit Lucien with that hideous agony spell while locking Nico in place with a nasty stasis spell. As Lucien was gasping on the floor, the creature strode over to the terrified Nico, ripped a hole in his throat with its sharp-nailed fingers and gulped the steward's blood greedily. Lucien struggled to his knees and cast lightning (the one element he had ability in). All he got for his trouble was another blast of debilitating pain as the creature cast a barrier that absorbed the energy of the spell and appeared to channel it back into its creator.

As Lucien struggled to fight off the effects of the pain spell, he watched cheerful, harmless Nico die. Drusus released the stasis spell then and tossed the steward aside. He demanded a third time that Lucien instruct all the staff to meet him in the ballroom. Lucien did so without argument. 

_(Having just experienced that spell myself, I couldn't blame him one bit.)_

He followed Drusus to the ballroom, thinking and rejecting one plan after another to vanquish the creature. It was getting increasingly angry as it stalked through the house. From what he could gather, the thing hated the layout and décor. Thus it blew the ballroom door open rather than simply allowing Lucien to unlock it.

It had stalked into the middle of the ballroom and stood stock still long enough that Lucien was seriously considering making a run for it. It started moving again, crossing to another spot where it cast a spell and blew the gaping hole we'd found in the floor _(“that beautiful, beautiful floor,” Lucien said mournfully)_.

Lucien gave a shocked shout of negation when Drusus did that. The creature didn't even look at him; just hit him with that fucking pain spell and left him screaming while it cast a light and peered into the hole. As the rest of the staff trickled in, they saw their major-domo huddled on the floor while a creature that looked slightly more human — thanks to Nico — stood next to the hole in the ruined floor, tapping its foot impatiently.

Drusus had chosen that spot because it contained a sturdy spiral staircase made of iron that had curved its way up to the second floor of his house back when there was a second floor. Lucien had no idea how he'd done it, but the creature had cast a spell so that staircase stretched up to the opening in the floor.

_“How? We climbed down well over twenty feet,” I said._

_Lucien had no answer._

It had herded the staff into the dark room below. They watched with dismay as Drusus then cast another high-powered spell that disintegrated the staircase, leaving them no way to escape back to the top. 

The creature cast a light over his prisoners, counted them (there were eleven plus Lucien) and with no provocation cast the agony spell on all of them. He let it go for what seemed like an eternity to his victims. It was long enough that one man never did get back up — his heart gave out. They watched Drusus consume the man's blood anyway (I assume the death was recent enough that the blood still contained sufficient life energy), then obeyed his command that they follow him, all thoughts of fight or flight gone.

They'd taken a more direct route than the one we'd ended up taking and reached the reading room outside the library quickly. He'd told them to wait and disappeared into the library. That started a frantic, whispered debate on the wisdom of making a break for it. Most of the staff were cowed enough to refuse to even consider it, but there were a few, led by little Desticia, who thought it would be worth the risk.

When it came time to make the attempt, only the raven-haired elf actually had the courage to go through with it. They all watched as she slipped out the door and disappeared into the gloom. For a time, all was silent.

The door to the reading room smashed open. The creature stood in the doorway, a veilfire torch in one hand, Desticia slung over its other shoulder. It jammed the torch into a sconce and threw the elf onto the floor. She'd been beaten and savaged but was somehow still breathing. Rogerian made a noise of dismay; he'd always liked her.

Drusus gave them all a poisonous look, saying, "Have I not made it clear that you do not defy me? Pain is not deterrent enough? So be it."

The creature directed a healing spell at Desticia, who opened her eyes enough to stare glassily at the ceiling. It took one stride so it could loom over her. She gave a soft whimper, but said nothing. Drusus cast stasis and made them all watch as he violated her and tore into her with his unnaturally thick, sharp nails. 

Rogerian made an inarticulate noise of grief, and as he couldn't turn, looked away from the atrocity taking place as best he could.

Drusus finished draining her of blood and turned on Rogerian with a snarl. Then the others had to watch him do everything she'd endured again to the man whose last name meant flowers. He – _it_ \- was barely even breathing heavily at the end. 

Afterwards, it had ordered them all to disrobe and follow it into the great hall. It sealed them in that room and left them, coming in occasionally to take someone out and bleed them. They'd had no water or food since the ordeal began.

#####

“Shite.” I had no other words to express what I felt about his story, but he seemed to understand, as he nodded. “Um. Is there somewhere to—” I made a vague gesture indicating relieving oneself.

Lucien laughed humourlessly. “That's the only blessing. This led to the privies. They're still there, so at least they're a room removed.”

“You've studied the wards on the door?”

“Incessantly,” he said with a sigh. “Look for yourself. The way he's got them set, the moment someone even probes them he knows and comes running.”

I stood — feeling sore and stiff both from the ill treatment and from sitting on that unforgiving floor — and crossed the room to have a closer look. He was right about the way the bastard had the wards set up. The spell he used was an ancient thing, but again there was an oddly familiar flavour to it. I sat back next to Lucien with a grunt of discomfort.

“I refuse to believe that gobshite out there is invincible.”

“I'm sure it's very vincible if you've access to the right spells and equipment,” Lucien said drily. “We seem to have neither at the moment. Oh, and one other thing."

“There's _more_?” I felt what he'd already told me was sufficiently ghastly.

“He — it — seems to possess some ability in shapeshifting. When I answered the door, it was even a bit shorter than you, and stockier.”

“I'm not _short_ , you know. I'm just shorter than you,” I said testily.

“I had no intent to offend,” Lucien said.

I sighed. “Sorry. I see what you mean. It's neither short nor stocky now. Did you see it shift?”

“No. When it came to the door it was wearing cheap trousers and a tunic that looked Antivan. I take it after it locked us in here, it found its old wardrobe, because when it came to take the first of us for bleeding it was wearing the robes you saw. It had reconfigured itself to fit them.”

“Wonderful. So we don't know how extensively it can shift or how long it takes to do so.” I took the chance of casting a privacy spell around us. "Lucien, Dorian's out there. I'm not sure why he didn't come in when I was getting hit with those pain spells, but we'd already agreed if I didn't return in a reasonable amount of time he'd assume the worst and find a way in. If necessary, I'm willing to endure another blast of its agony spell if it'll distract it enough to let Dorian take it out."

He squinted at me. “You trust him that much?”

“Of course. You even need to ask?”

He flushed a little. “I confess I have not tried very hard to get to know you. Admittedly, Dorian hadn't lived at the estate for many years, but from everything I'd heard and observed, he was never one for committed relationships. I…assumed you were a particularly long-lasting dalliance.”

I smiled faintly. “Lucien, I assure you, Dorian's apparent inability to commit had everything to do with Altus society and the way he was raised. I don't know if you're aware, but we've been together for six years now. I am deeply, authentically in love with him, and he loves me just as much. If declaring for me in front of the entire Magisterium isn’t proof enough, well, you only have to take one look at me to know I'm not something he brought along as arm candy.”

“You…have a certain intensity about you I assumed he found attractive,” Lucien said. “I suppose in an academic sense I can see why he'd find you physically appealing.”

I grinned and he looked away. “Well, academically speaking, thanks.”

I figured that had made him uncomfortable enough to warrant a change in topic. “However, none of that gets us any closer to getting out of here and killing that thing.”

“True,” Lucien said with some relief. “As I said, he was able to block my lightning with barely a thought.”

“I have a little more in my arsenal even without all my gear,” I said.

“As much as Dorian?” He sounded skeptical.

“Yes. We learned some different things, and different ways of doing them, but I'm just as powerful. Ask Dorian if you don't believe me.”

He sighed. “Once again it seems I wasn't paying sufficient attention. The crossbows made me think you were compensating for a lack of power. It's not something most mages would embrace.”

“I'm not most mages,” I said with a shrug. “There are reasons I wanted to incorporate conventional weaponry into my repertoire. Besides, with the amount of magical work I've put into them, they're anything but conventional.”

“Ah. Like The Coat.”

I laughed. “Yes. Like The Coat. Which is out in the other damned room.”

“Could you hit it with something when it walks in?”

“Problem is, I don't know what to hit it with. I mean, it's not _actually_ Drusus Pavus, or at least not fully. I'm just not sure what else it is.” I tried to find a more comfortable way to sit and couldn't. “ _Was_ there a real Drusus Caecina Pavus?”

“Oh, yes. Based on the few portraits I've seen, that is what he looked like.”

“You didn't see the one here in his house?”

He shook his head. “He was a Magister some five hundred years ago. The family doesn't like to discuss him, but back then he was notorious. Before they ended him, Altus parents would invoke his spectre to scare children if you're to believe the accounts from that time. When he was young, he was famous for his excesses. Everyone assumed those would end once he got married and settled into his seat in the Magisterium.”

“Obviously they didn't.”

“No. They got worse.” Lucien leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Darker. Then from dark to decadent and from decadent to depraved, all of which was still within the realm of acceptability to his peers. His first wife successfully divorced him on the grounds that he wouldn't give her children. I suspect he barely noticed she was gone.”

“They didn't get after him for that?”

“Oh, he emerged from the Black House — that's what he called this place — to enter into another marriage some years later. The wife this time was the third daughter of one of his best friends; I can just imagine what she went through.”

I finally lay on my back and propped my head on my hands. It still wasn't comfortable, but at least it was a different sort of discomfort. “Did he have the murder rooms by then?” 

“You know about those?”

“We spent some time in one on the way to this delightful place. We saw some of what went on.”

“Oh. Oh, my. Well, yes, we have reason to believe the murder rooms, as you call them, were a thing by then. Drusus would host week-long events at his place. He had a core group that all but lived there and a rotating list of hangers-on and the curious or foolish. They went through drink, drugs and slaves by the cartload. It went on for years.”

“Lot of blood magic, I take it.”

“Naturally. Along with the more conventional torture, rape and murder of course. Though conventional may be the wrong word. It's my understanding that they took all of those to unthinkable levels.” 

“One wonders how he had enough hours in the day. What were they up to with the blood magic?”

“Drusus and his core followers got in into their heads that they wanted to follow in the footsteps of the early magisters. They wanted to physically enter the Fade and take the empty throne in the Black City as their own. Or barring that, they wanted to find and control…something. I could never get a clear sense what they thought they were going to find, but they spent a great deal of time and killed a great number of slaves poking about in the far corners of the Fade.”

“I may have an idea what they were after. You should ask Dorian about it some time,” I said, thinking back to a nameless nightclub in Orlais. “They would've been in for a nasty surprise if they'd managed it.”

“Pity they didn't, then.” He grunted as he changed position. I wasn't the only one who was bloody uncomfortable.

“So what finally pushed the authorities over the edge?” I asked, surprising myself by yawning.

“I've read many stories; I really couldn't tell you which ones are true,” Lucien said. “I think some of them are merely different authors trying to outdo each other with the depth of scandal and depravity they could attribute to him. One of the most sensational had it that the second wife gave birth to a child. Some weeks after the birth, she left the child in the care of a trusted nurse and went to visit her mother and sisters for a few days. When she returned, she was told to stay in her wing of the Black House, as her husband's inner circle was having a dinner party.

“She entered her suite and called for the nurse, but there was no answer. She assumed that lady may have taken the child out for an evening constitutional, but as evening became night, well…she started looking. She knew, of course, about her husband's excesses. Everyone in Tevinter society did. Still, she wasn't overly worried about the safety of the child, as powerful mages are the goal of every Altus family and maker only knows that child had the potential to be Archon material.

“She was more concerned that her husband and father may have coerced the nurse into providing them with…entertainment during their dinner party, and she didn't want the child exposed to such things, even though it was too young to understand what it was seeing. So after searching the public areas of the house, she readied some spells in case any of the inner circle thought to involve her as well, and entered her husband's private wing.

“Though it was fairly early for them, she could hear that they were already deep into their revels. She headed to the great dining room doors, only to be stopped before them by one of her husband's private bodyguards.

“'Forgive me, Domina, but you're not to go in there,' he told her apologetically, for she was a powerful mage in her own right and not someone to cross.

“'This may be my husband's sick little party, but this is my house too, and I go where I will,' she replied. 'Now stand aside.' She saw his fearful expression and added, 'I will absolve you of any responsibility for allowing me in. Would it ease your fears if I put a binding spell on you?'

“It appeared it would, for that is what she did. As she pushed open the big door, she heard groans and drunkenly delighted snickering from her husband's inner circle and prepared herself to view without emotion whatever poor victim they'd chosen to toy with over their aperitifs.

“The first thing she saw was the nurse. As she feared, the poor woman had been stripped and bound to a chair. They had been doing…things to her. Without going into detail, they were cruel and demeaning. She saw the tears running down the nurse's face and allowed herself a touch of anger. They had a never-ending stream of slaves for that; they had no business involving the trained household servants.

“She marched up to the heavily-laden dinner table where her husband was doling out servings of the main course, brandishing his knife with a mad grin. His inner circle (including her own father) all swivelled to look at the intruder. When they saw who it was, some looked guilty while others looked amused. Drusus blanched, but beneath the concern she thought his main emotion was anger at being stopped mid-performance.

“'Don't worry, I won't disturb your party for long,' she said coldly. 'Just give me my nurse and my child and I'll leave you to whatever sick little games you plan on playing tonight.'

“They all just stared at her, which annoyed her no end. She crossed her arms over her chest and said, 'Well? I'm waiting. Where have you hidden my child?'

“She saw her father look guiltily at her husband. The others, too, were looking to him. She followed their eyes, not to her husband — who was still standing there with his knife in one hand and his big fork, a slice of meat hanging off it, in the other — but to the platter in front of him. She looked at the delicately roasted main course…then looked again. And realized that her child had been in front of her the entire time.”

I couldn’t stop a bark of laughter, inappropriate as it may have been. “I saw that one coming. Still, you told it well. Did she kill them all?”

“In some versions. Everyone except Drusus, of course, because we know what happened to him.”

“What did?” I shifted to lie on my right side, since I can't lie on my left for any length of time.

“While the particulars differ, all accounts agree they walled him up alive in one of his murder rooms. Once they'd done that, they razed the top half of the house — which was where his blameless wife primarily resided — and had half a dozen earth mages bury the rest.”

“That sounds needlessly complicated. Why not just burn him alive or something?”

“You'd have to ask them. All I know is all the accounts agree. Perhaps there was a reason he needed to be buried.”

“Yeah, well you see how well that worked out,” I said sourly.

“It worked for five hundred years. Evidently something changed. You said yourself it's not _really_ Drusus Pavus.”

I stared at him. “Wait. Does this mean you _knew_ about all this? That there was some bloody great house of horrors literally buried beneath Dorian's house all this time?”

He shook his head, appearing mildly offended. “Certainly not. I knew the _stories_. I never for a moment believed they were this accurate.”

I blew out a slow gust of air. “No wonder Dorian became a necromancer. I mean, how many people died in this place?”

“I doubt anyone fully knew. Perhaps not even Drusus himself as he became increasingly consumed with his blood magic and seeing how deep into depravity and excess he could push himself and his followers. At the end he'd truly become a monster.”

I chuckled humourlessly. “So if that story is true…that means the wholesale torture and slaughter of countless people was fine with everyone, but the moment he removed a potentially powerful mage from the bloodline…”

“Indeed. Therefore it is probably true.” Lucien closed his eyes again.

I stood back up, all my muscles protesting. “ _Venhedis_. Well, whatever that fucking thing is I need to get out of here and bloody well kill it. I'm ready to trigger its damned wards.”

“Do you always swear this much when you get annoyed?” 

“Yes. Blame it on my barbaric southern upbringing if you wish.”

He chuckled. “I shall.”

I padded to the door and back. Now that the effects of the agony spells had worn off, I felt angry and impatient. I've never been a big fan of wandering around nude and this situation was not improving my opinion. I wanted my clothes and my gear back, and I wanted to know where Dorian and Father were, and I _really_ wanted to damage that creature outside the door.

I was about ready to blow the door and chance the agony spell when it opened.

Drusus looked irked. “Follow me,” it said. Well, it got me out of that room so I followed.

It sat back on its throne and glared at me. “Why are you different? You feel like I've known you.”

I took a calculated risk. “Give me back my clothes and I'll talk to you.”

“I have no desire to fuck you if that's what you're worried about,” it sneered, “though I will if you make me. Then perhaps I'll tear you limb from limb like the two you no doubt found on the way in here.”

“I'm sure you could,” I said levelly. “But that wasn't my concern. You've made your point — I concede you have power over me. But I'm also damned uncomfortable, and I've no intention of having any further conversation with you until I'm dressed. You can torture me all you want, but all that's going to accomplish is to make me incoherent.”

It bristled and for the barest of moments (so to speak) I felt a twinge of its agony spell. I braced myself but it backed off. Finally it waved nonchalantly. “Fine. Put your clothes on. But you leave the weapons. That includes your boots and any belts, pouches, good luck charms or anything else detachable.”

“Agreed.” I didn't think there was any need to mention that, technically, my left forearm was detachable. Before it could change its mind, I dismissed the wards on my things and put on what it allowed. “What about my coat?”

It grunted. “No. If you're cold, cast a heat spell. You do look slightly less objectionable like that.”

If I didn't think it would earn me another agony spell I would've made a pithy comment about how heartbroken I was that it didn't find me attractive. Instead I re-warded my things before it could try to destroy them. It ordered me to take the forbidden items and deposit them on the other side of the room, which I did without protest. At least I knew where they were. I returned to stand in front of its throne.

“Well?” it said crossly, “You've got what you wanted. Talk. Why are you different? Should I just kill you now and take the risk that that is my wisest move?”

“I'm trying to figure it out. You want to know before you kill me, don't you?” The eye that had been muddy looked a little more natural now, though its shade of blue didn't match the other. I wondered how much blood it had ingested to make itself look like that and whether it was permanent or had to be maintained with more blood.

“If you have no answers, you are no use.”

“Then give me some bloody time. I told you I'm trying to figure it out and you're going to have to help,” I snapped. I wondered where the fuck Dorian and Father were.

“How do you expect me to help?”

“Just answer some questions.”

It curled its lip and said, “Ask, then.”

I had to pinpoint how it was it could feel familiar to me as well, and quickly. It may not truly be Drusus Pavus, but it had used him as a template and it seemed Drusus hadn't been a patient monster. “Where are you from?”

It frowned. “Here.”

“Here where? You mean Qarinus?”

“No, idiot. I said here. I am from here.”

“Yes, but where were you from before?”

“Before? You make no sense. Before what?”

I'd had more rewarding conversations with my nug. “Before you came here. You must have been _somewhere_ or someone would have noticed you.”

“No one noticed me. I was down here.”

I had a vision of Drusus Pavus, unnaturally preserved as Corypheus had been, wandering the dead, empty halls of his buried house for centuries while generations of Pavuses lived out their lives above. But that wasn't what was going on. “If you were down here as you say, how did you get above? You came from somewhere and had to go through the ballroom floor to get back.”

Its brows drew down, lips pursing as it thought. “I…was called. There was power without direction. In me it found direction. We…joined.”

“Where were you when this happened?”

“Here,” it reiterated.

“Down here,” I said flatly. “How did this power find you down here? You were walled up in one of your murder rooms.”

“Power finds power,” it intoned. That sounded like something the real Drusus probably repeated ad nauseum. “It called. The husk was long dead, but I awoke. I went…up.”

“How could this power awaken you when nothing else did? There have been powerful mages on this property the entire time you were down here.” I have to admit I was intrigued enough to want to solve this puzzle before killing the mad creature.

“They did not call. And their power was not the same.”

I sat cross-legged on the dais. It had been a long night and I was tired of standing. It didn't object. If anything, it probably felt more powerful, being able to look down on me. “Explain that to me. How was their power different?”

“Theirs was like yours, and the skinny man in the other room. Bright like quicksilver and married to the wielder. The power that called me was born with this world. It is old and deep and tied to nothing. That is why it needed the direction I provide.” Just like that, its expression turned stormy. “But why does it _smell like you_?” it roared, all but lunging out of its seat at me.

It was hard not to flinch back, but I felt like any sign of weakness would encourage the old sadist. “Calm down, would you? That's what we're trying to figure out.” 

It growled and slouched back into the throne. “I could hurt you. Make you wish you were dead.”

“Yes, you could,” I said with a calm I didn't feel, “but then you wouldn't know why.”

“You could still think without limbs. Or balls.”

“Not well enough to answer your questions. Is maiming me more important than knowing?” _Fasta vass, Dorian, get your arse in here._

“I've heard no answers out of you.”

“You have to give me a fucking chance to work it out, you know,” I snapped again. “I have little enough information without you threatening to dismember me every few minutes.”

It made a rusty noise that took me a moment to identify as amusement. “So the dog bites back. I approve. Just do not bite too hard; you have only as much power as I allow.”

“I understand that.” I thought I did very well not rolling my eyes at it. Maker, I hate narcissists with delusions of grandeur, and for some reason I keep encountering them. “Can we return to the subject now?”

It gave me a sour look and a flappy little affirmative wave.

“Now, when you say you went _up_ , where did you emerge? You must have come aboveground at some point.”

Its face squinched in thought. “A flat field.”

“Can you give me a little more detail? What kind of field? Grass? Dirt?”

It shook its head. “Flat. Flat and white. There had to be blood and there was not enough at first.”

 _A flat, white field?_ I tried to think what would fit that bill. “Was it like chalk?”

It gave me a disparaging look. “No. Tiles. It was like tiles.” It paused, chewing at a fingernail that was thick and pointed as an animal's claw. “It _was_ tiles. I did not know what tiles were when I was there.”

 _Where the void was there a place with tiles that that thing wouldn't have been noticed on the estate?_ There was something on the tip of my mind. I was getting it…but when I did, if I gave it the answer, wouldn't the thing just kill me? _Dorian, Father, now would be a very good time to show up._

It narrowed its mismatched eyes. “What are you thinking? You're thinking something.”

“Let me think it or it'll never come.”

_Hot summer day. White tiles…where? Following a compulsion, Dorian and I weaving our way through the ruined summer house to the ancient reflecting pool. The tiles are oddly clean and intact despite years of neglect. How many years? Dorian has no idea. Then everything goes mad and the next thing I remember, Dorian's helping me up and I'm fucking drenched._

_Oh, fuck me. Is that even possible?_

“I…threw you up,” I muttered.

Somehow the bastard heard me. “You what? What do you mean?”

“You wouldn't believe me and you wouldn't like it,” I said. 

“Tell me.”

I glared at it. “Yeah, right. I tell you, you don't like what you hear, and you kill me. Or I tell you, you don't give a damn and you kill me.”

“I was always going to kill you, lackwit,” it snapped. “Your only choice is how much you are going to suffer first.”

I was going to have to do something quickly and just hope I survived it. I couldn't imagine what was taking Dorian and Father, but I was running out of ways to string the creature along and I was on about my last nerve ending. _Dorian, please don't let me die here_.

I sighed and began working out a plan while I talked. “You want know so badly? I'll tell you again you're not going to like it.”

“Stop stalling.”

I shrugged. “Have it your way. The power smells like me because it was a part of me for some years, and before that it was a pool full of ancient elf. I puked it up several months ago. And now here _you_ are.”

It looked peeved and confused. “What? That makes no sense.”

“It's exactly as I said. You are the result of me sicking up a pool of distilled ancient elf.”

“You lie.”

“I told you you wouldn't like it.”

It surged out of its throne roaring, “You _LIE_!”

I didn't waste time letting it throw its fit as I knew it was going to hit me with its agony spell any moment. The second it rose from the throne I conjured my sword and, with every bit of strength and precision I could muster, swung up and across. I caught it directly in the throat, shearing its head right off. It sailed in a wobbly arc and hit the ground, making nasty little noises as it tried to continue screaming at me with severed vocal cords.

The next moment I had to jump out of the way as the trunk went stumbling down the low stairs past me, going in the general direction of the head. If there was any question as to how human the thing was, I now had my answer. Removing its head had just inconvenienced it. I wondered if destroying the head would kill it — like it had those statues under Madauros — or just render it blind until it could grow new eyes.

I threw a heavy force spell at the body, knocking it off its feet. It flailed on the floor for a moment then commenced crawling toward the head again. I launched a couple of high-energy fireballs at the head. They burned a good deal of its skin and one of its eyes imploded. I chucked a fireball at the body for good measure, since I had no idea where the driving force of the creature was located.

Casting one more heavy force spell not at Drusus, but at the door behind which the household staff was imprisoned, I ran across the room to my weapons and gear, and was just a few paces from it when the pain hit. I couldn't believe the bastard could still cast. I tried to fight it, but there was just no way. It felt like my entire body was being torn apart from the inside, but immeasurably worse.

I hit the ground. It was fast becoming impossible to even form a thought beyond the certain knowledge that this time it was going to continue until it killed me. An eternity later I lost consciousness.


	114. Ashes to Ashes

_“We need to go back while it's vulnerable!”_

A voice I knew, but couldn't place. 

_“We're not going anywhere until I know he's okay.”_

_“Damned right.”_

Dorian and my father. Everything sounded muffled and far away.

_“I would normally never argue with you, but I've seen this before. He's going to be fine. That-that thing is going to heal itself in no time.”_

I tried opening my eyes, managed just a crack before my sluggish mind reported that probably hurt. I was somewhere dimly lit. It had a grey ceiling.

“I'll not brook any more argument. We stay here until Kai's awake and sufficiently recovered to tell us if he's okay or not,” Dorian snapped from close by.

I managed to open my eyes all the way. I thought, _Yay for me_. It was a complete thought, at least. The ceiling was still grey.

“How do you kill a thing that can survive having its head cut off?” my father asked.

“I would think cutting it into very small bits and burning them all might be fairly effective,” Dorian said.

“You could just end up with a very angry cloud of sentient smoke,” Father observed.

Dorian snort-laughed. “Then we could stick it in a sealed glass jar and let it think about what it's done.”

“I have never understood how people can joke in circumstances like this.” I placed the voice finally. It was Lucien.

“We can because it's a better alternative than screaming.” Dorian leaned over me, checking. He looked worried. He saw my eyes were open, said, “I think he's awake,” over his shoulder and turned back to me. “Amatus? Are you back with us?”

I said, “Mm hm,” because it didn't involve anything as complicated as moving my lips.

He sat next to me, leading me to believe I was lying on the floor. “You know, you've really got to stop nearly getting yourself killed. You've done it to the point where it's no longer a bold fashion statement.”

I croaked, “Where _were_ you?”

“Let's get you coherent first. Are you thirsty?”

I nodded and said, “Ow.” It seemed to be my go-to word on this little adventure.

“Emil, let's get him sitting up.”

Father got on the other side of me and they hauled me up so I could sit, wadding my coat between my back and the wall for some padding. I squinted at them and said, “What happened to you? You're both mussed.”

They were smudged with dirt and dust and what might have been blood, and despite obvious efforts to put it right, their hair was going every which way. Dorian's looked like it actually had a cobweb sticking to it. For some reason I found that fascinating.

“We'll tell you later,” he said, handing me my water skin. “Here. Drink.”

I did, forcing myself to sip it slowly though I wanted to gulp.

“How do you feel?” Father asked.

I considered that. “Shaky and beaten up. Weak. My body's quite sure everything should hurt even though it doesn't. I also feel like I could burst into tears or start laughing uncontrollably for no particular reason.” I drank more water.

"It's a side effect of the pain spell," Dorian said. "It should dissipate soon." But he still looked worried.

“Pain?” I echoed. “What that bastard thing casts makes mere pain an attractive prospect.”

“It certainly does,” Lucien agreed. 

“I take it that thing's not dead yet?”

Father snorted. “We should be so lucky.”

“It's probably murdering the rest of the staff as we speak,” Lucien fretted. I looked at him and blinked, just barely managing not to giggle. He had Dorian's royal blue overshirt wrapped around himself like a particularly festive loincloth. My father's forest green adventuring jacket (that's what he always calls it) completed his ensemble. With his hair askew and his skinny legs, he looked rather like an agitated stork preparing for a party. 

“Did I really almost die again?” I asked. I was having a little trouble sticking to one subject.

“Fortunately your body decided to pass out before it could get that far and Drusus was too busy to oversee your death,” Dorian said.

“Good. I'm very tired of doing that, you know. Not that I want to complete the job. I'd rather not get close to dying at all. Where _were_ you? I ran out of ways to stall and when chopping its head off just pissed it off, I thought I was _dead_." I sniffed, feeling ready to burst into tears. I looked at Lucien again to banish the feeling.

Dorian ran a hand across my head, which meant there was enough hair grown out that he could feel it. “We were trying to get to you, amatus. It wasn't easy. It started with the doors sealing themselves shut, and the rest is a tale we haven’t the time for just now.”

“Sorry. I figured that. I just— I tried, but that fucking _pain_ spell.” I annoyed myself by starting to tear up again, and swiped at my eyes with the back of my hand.

“I know. Lucien described it to us and we saw a few moments of what it was doing to you.”

“We should go kill that thing,” I said. My emotions were all over the place, but that sentiment was strong and steady.

Lucien said, “Praise the Maker.”

“Did you know I sicked it up?” I continued.

“You what?” Dorian's brows drew together. 

“It's the Well. The bit that was left of it that dripped off me and that I wrung out of my shirt,” I explained. “Somehow it found what was left of old Drusus down below and, well, that's what's out there.”

His eyes widened. “Are you quite sure?”

I nodded a little too emphatically and said, “Ow,” again. “Quite. It described what it remembered about becoming what it is. It'd been sitting there in that old reflecting pool turning into a monster for months.”

He gave me a light but firm smack on the back of the head. 

I said, “Hey!”

“I told you not to drink that damned thing,” he said sternly. 

“Yes, love, you were a thousand times right and I should have listened to you.”

“Could you perhaps continue this lover's quarrel _after_ we dispose of that thing?” Lucien groused.

I said, “Bite me, Lucien.”

Lucien made an offended noise, but didn’t answer me.

I leaned into to Dorian and murmured, “Could you please just hold me for a minute? I feel very fucked up. I can’t seem to focus.”

He nodded and embraced me.

I held him close, breathed in his scent, felt that small current of magic that always ran through both of us mesh, feeding me a taste of his essence and him the same taste of mine. I used his steadiness to find my own, as the repeated agony spells had blown my grounding to pieces. After a few minutes, I felt much more like myself.

“Do you feel up to standing?” Dorian asked.

I nodded more carefully this time. Once again he and Father helped get me upright, then had to steady me when I immediately lost my balance. After a few more moments I was able to stand on my own, though I didn't trust myself to bend down to reach my coat and had to ask Dorian to do it. Once I'd pulled it on, felt its familiar weight and the bound energy of all my hardening and protective spells, I felt better. “Did you get my boots?” I asked.

“We got everything,” Father assured me.

I finally took a few moments to look around the place we were in. It was a low-ceilinged chamber that seemed to have been hewn straight out of the bedrock. The walls and floor had been smoothed, but that was about it. There were a couple of empty sconces on the walls, but it was Dorian (and possibly Lucien) who was providing the light. “What is this place?” 

“We think these were service tunnels,” Father said. “Likely to ferry supplies or new victims in and dead bodies out. We had to backtrack nearly to the Well Room, but we found an entrance in the bottom of a closet.”

“It's quite the tale we have to tell, but we'd best wait until we've disposed of Drusus,” Dorian said.

“Can you at least tell me how you got me? How'd you stop him casting that damned spell?”

Dorian grinned. “That was Emil's doing. I was trying to cast something to stop the body from reaching the head. Your father simply walked up and kicked the head away. It went hurtling across the room, bounced against the far wall and the spell ceased.”

“It was too busy trying to direct the body to its new location,” Father said with a faint smile.

You also kicked it hard enough you likely rang a bell,” Dorian amended. “We probably should have taken the time to finish it off, but you were having small seizures. You had managed to blow the door right out of its wards, so Lucien was helping the other staff members out of that room. He was the only one who chose to accompany us. He took your things, we took you and we got you into the tunnels before Drusus noticed. That was all less than an hour ago.”

I took another sip of water while I let all that sink in then gave my father an incredulous smile. “You _kicked_ it?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes simple is better. Besides, you did remove its head in the first place.”

“Could we also save the mutual admiration society for the aftermath?” Lucien pleaded.

“Do you feel up to finishing this, amatus?”

I considered the question carefully. “I think so. I would like to put a bolt or two into it and watch it explode.”

“No doubt spawning a dozen small copies of it,” Father predicted.

I pulled on my boots and equipped all my gear while we came up with a loose strategy, then Dorian and Father led us through the warren of passages to a trap door that opened in what was once probably a cloak room. I still felt a bit off — not exactly shaky, but anxious and overly sensitive — but not so off that I couldn't work through it.

“I hope your theory is right,” I murmured to Dorian. Much of our strategy was based on a thought he'd had after they'd pulled me out of there.

“It's right,” he said confidently. “I know what I felt.”

We emerged from the cloak room into the back of the reception hall. 

This time we didn't concern ourselves with stealth. We three mages cast barriers and the four of us strode down the hall toward the throne.

The creature was there waiting for us. Its head was reattached, and if there was any doubt how it managed that, it had left the bloodless body of one of the unfortunate staff who hadn't made it out of the prison room tossed off to the side where we'd be sure to see it.

It gave us a cold smile. "I should have known you brought friends. You think I can't take four of you? I shall enjoy making you scream."

It cast, but Dorian cast first, and lucky for all of us, he was correct. He'd been convinced after being in the same room with the creature that, because it had absorbed and based so much of itself on a dead man (who was also a not-so-distant relative), he should be able to exercise enough control over it as a Necromancer to prevent it from casting.

The look of angry confusion on the thing's face when none of us dropped screaming to the floor was priceless, though it didn’t stop the thing from trying to attack. It gave an enraged growl and rushed at us, its hands enlarging and growing thick claws as it advanced.

As it took a swipe at Dorian that he blocked easily, I dropped back and, with a little magical nudge to make sure it flew true, fired a spelled bolt into its skull. 

Its mismatched eyes met mine for a brief moment then its head exploded, bits of bone and flesh flying in a bloody halo.

I hit the body with a freezing spell to slow it then turned to incinerate all the bits of its head so Father's prediction wouldn't come true.

While Dorian continued to ensure it wouldn't be able to cast, Lucien pounded it to a pulp with force spells (his other strength, magically speaking), Father cut it to pieces with his longsword, and I continued to incinerate all the pieces. In less than half an hour the thing was nothing but greasy smears of ash on the polished stone floor.

If that seems a little anti-climactic after what it had put me and the others through, well, I'll take a four-on-one assured victory over a long, dramatic battle every time.


	115. Resurfacing

Some searching eventually turned up Lucien's clothing, along with all the others', tossed in an untidy heap on the floor of what we assumed was a closet near the entry to the reception hall. He was, if anything, more relieved than I had been to be able to get properly dressed, his normal unflappable calm returning with his wardrobe.

“So are we to block the entrances to this place and ensure no one ventures in here again?” he asked cheerfully.

Dorian gawked at him. “Certainly not! The library alone is a treasure, let alone the other artifacts. This place is over five hundred years old and almost perfectly preserved. I intend to explore every corner of it.”

“ _We_ intend,” I corrected him. 

“But the history—” Lucien said.

“Is ancient and long dead,” Dorian said. “Believe me, I know.”

“It just means we might run across some nasty spots like that first murder room,” I said.

“Also means you could likely charge a generous admission price,” Father spoke up. “There are all manner of people who'd be willing to part with some substantial coin to spend a night or two in an infamous murder mansion.”

“When did you become so mercenary? And why?” I said. “You've never needed money.”

“I'm both prudent and practical, son. One shouldn't blindly count on inheritances and taxpayers to provide one's wherewithal — both can disappear without warning.”

“Interesting philosophy,” I said. “But there's something I'm rather more curious about now: How do we get out of here?”

That was easier said than done. Due to the precipitous way we’d entered the basement, we couldn’t simply backtrack, and while the Black House may have been large but conventional aboveground, Drusus had turned it into a labyrinth below. We came to the conclusion that much of it had to do with his murder and torture games, as there were numerous blind corridors leading to dead ends or murder rooms (the doors to those locked the moment you fully entered the room, as we discovered to our great annoyance). Others had false or locked doors down the length of them, and still others had drop floors like the one that had gotten us in the beginning.

“At least it doesn’t seem to connect to a natural cave system below the house,” Dorian said with false cheer.

“Don’t give it ideas,” I replied darkly.

We ended up wandering until we were all heartily sick of the place. It must have been two hours before we finally stumbled across the path Drusus had taken to get back to the hole under the ballroom. Our makeshift rope was still there, though the idea of climbing the thing made me want to run screaming. We were all exhausted enough that we first searched the room in hopes the spiral stairway Lucien described had been hidden under a sophisticated concealment spell.

It hadn't, and we had no choice but to climb. By the time I reached the top, my arms and shoulders were screaming and I was thoroughly out of breath. I dropped to the floor and, if I hadn't known we had a perfectly comfortable bed nearby, would have seriously considered going to sleep right there, despite the morning light streaming in through the big, arched windows.

“We forgot to look for the rest of the staff,” Lucien said tiredly; he too was lying on the floor.

“If we could find our way back so could they,” I said, not really caring.

Dorian emerged from the hole in the floor and my father gave him a hand up. At least Father appeared to have given up his silly prejudices when it came to my amatus.

Dorian thanked him and crawled across the wrecked part of the floor to drop next to me. “ _Fasta vass, my arms_ ,” he groaned.

I said, “Unh.” After a moment I added, “Light’s out.”

“What light?”

“The scary red light we never found the reason for.”

“So it is.” Dorian yawned. “Must’ve died with Drusus.”

Father said, “We need to tell Jas and Danae it's safe to come out.”

I turned my head just enough to look at him. “Do you know how _far_ that is?”

“And no servants to send,” Dorian said mournfully. 

“You don't need to come with me,” Father said through a yawn. “At least, I'm assuming you don't have any more ancient homicidal monsters about.”

“I'm afraid that was our quota for the month,” Dorian said.

A thought forced its way to the front of my mind. “Hey, Lucien?”

“Yes?” He'd stood and was surveying the wreckage in the ballroom with dismay. His hair was still standing in mad little tufts despite his efforts to smooth it back into place.

“What ever happened to the first guy?”

He pursed his lips. “Excuse me?”

“When this all started. While we were out. You said the one who knocked on the door was a young fellow with a thick accent. What happened to him?”

Dorian sat up as Lucien gaped at me. “Maker, I'd quite forgotten about him. I have no idea. Why, the little weasel could still be in the house.”

I just knew he was picturing the man stealing things or getting muddy footprints on the carpets.

“We'd best go kick his arse, then,” Father said lazily.

I sat up too. “ _Kick his arse_? When exactly did you decide to turn into a professional badass?”

He just smirked at me as he stood and stretched.

Dorian and I looked at each other with a perfectly understood moment of sheer amusement, but said nothing else as we, too, levered ourselves off the floor. I had an unexpected moment of dizziness, but put it down to being overtired and standing too quickly.

Moving slowly due to fatigue rather than stealth, we made our way back to the main house.

“Mother and Danae and Swivet first, or accent guy?” I asked. I didn't feel up to making another decision.

“You forgot August,” Dorian said.

“Him too. I could really use a coffee about now.”

“Amatus, you are always in the mood for coffee.”

“Well, yes, but right now I could actually _use_ one.”

“We should get the others first,” Father said. “I doubt one lone henchman who no longer has anyone to hench for is that much of a threat.”

We all agreed after the thing we'd just vanquished, accent guy was barely worth considering beyond the possibility he might steal some valuables.

When we reached the hallway branching to the bedrooms and the common areas, Lucien stopped and said, “If it's all the same to you gentlemen, I believe I'd like to clean up and get some sleep. It's been a very…trying night.”

We told him we understood and bade him good night, despite the daylight streaming through the windows. Father took the lead and I was happy to let him. I was in that state of overtired where everything seemed bright and brittle and the world looked fake.

Dorian fell in next to me, regarding me with undisguised concern. “Are you up to this, Kai? I could just go with your father to make sure nothing else ghastly attacks him if you'd rather go to bed.”

I managed a small smile. “It's just out to the eluvian room and back. I'll live. Though I daresay if something else did attack, he'd enjoy it.”

“Who knew under that polished exterior beat the heart of a mercenary adventurer.”

I put an arm across his shoulders and leaned into him even though it slowed us down more. “ _Venhedis_. Being tortured takes a lot out of you even when it doesn't leave any marks.”

“Not something I particularly feel like joking about, amatus.”

“I'd worry more about Lucien. He's never been through shite like this before. I think maybe he doesn't hate me anymore.”

Dorian snorted. “I keep telling you, he never hated you. He just—”

“He told me he figured I was just a particularly long-lasting dalliance of yours,” I said, then smirked. “He also allowed that academically speaking, I _am_ attractive enough for you.”

He looked at me wide-eyed. “How in the _world_ did that subject come up?”

“We were naked at the time; Drusus said it was a safety measure. Personally I think he was just being a twat. Anyway, we both saw far more of each other than we ever wanted. He's much hairier than I thought. Lucien, I mean.”

“I know. I saw that. I don't believe I'll ask for my shirt back.”

We followed Father out the front door into the screamingly bright light of a summer morning. I cursed and closed my eyes as an instant headache tried to take hold, dropping my arm from Dorian's shoulders. “Where did Kaeso get those tinted spectacles?” I growled. “I need some yesterday.”

“You could wait here,” Dorian said again.

“Fuck it. I'll live.” I squinted my way out to the eluvian room even though the headache seemed to get worse with every step. Father was already waiting there impatiently. 

Dorian dismissed the undisturbed wards and opened the door. Before it had gotten more than halfway there, we heard an excited trill-squeak as Swivet barrelled out, making a beeline for me.

He bounced around me squeaking importantly until I knelt down to fuss over him. I felt the headache abate a touch as he nuzzled me and demanded I pet him.

Mother, Danae and August emerged soon after, yawning and blinking in the bright sunlight. They wanted to know what happened, but even Father said he needed to sleep before launching into that tale.

Mother looked us up and down and declared that all three of us looked like we'd been battling darkspawn for a week (adding, “You didn't, did you?”).

We assured her we hadn't. 

As we walked back to the house we warned them there was still a possible intruder in the house. They didn't seem too worried. Mother was inspecting Father with far more interest.

“Em, I don't think I've seen you looking this dishevelled in years. Where's your adventuring jacket?”

“Don't worry, I just loaned it to Lucien,” he said placidly.

“Your shirt's torn in the back too. Emil, are those _claw marks_?”

“Yes, I suppose they are. Not to worry — we had healing potions and Dorian’s healing spells.”

“And you want to make us wait for hours while you all sleep before we hear about this?” Danae demanded.

“Yes,” I said shortly. “And if you find the intruder, kill him quietly.”

We made it back to the cool, shaded interior of the house. I said it seemed the bound spirits had returned. Dorian confirmed I was correct.

Father announced he was going to bathe and get some sleep and headed to their suite without hesitation, Mother accompanying him.

Dorian and I said goodnight to Danae and August and went to our own suite, Swivet trotting alongside us. He was in one of his moods where he wasn't willing to let me out of his sight. I thought guiltily it was probably due to the number of times I'd left him for extended periods when he was young.

As soon as we closed the doors I hung up The Coat and removed my boots and overshirt, then dropped heavily into the closest chair. Swivet tried to climb onto my lap, but I made him stay next to me on the floor, scratching him in his favourite spot between his ears when he butted his head into my thigh.

I watched Dorian remove his armour and boots. “ _Venhedis_ , I feel like I spent the night crawling through a collection of Thedas's worst dust bins,” he said with a sigh.

“What did you and Father fight that had claws? What was in those service tunnels?” I asked.

“I’m…not sure.” He paused thoughtfully. “They were stunted and sickly, but vicious. I think they may have been human once.”

“How many were there? Are you saying they’d been living down there this whole time?”

Dorian shook his head. “I don’t know. Two of them attacked us. If there were others, they stayed away. When we do go back down there, we need to keep watch for them. You may be right in your speculating there are tunnels to deeper levels.”

“Of course there are. Right now I don’t care — they’re welcome to them.” I unsuccessfully fought back a yawn.

“Did you want the shower first?”

“You go ahead. I'm sorry, but I just don't have the energy to clean up right now. I need to sleep.” Now that I was sitting I could feel just how beaten up I really was. It crossed my mind that it might be because I was getting older. Then I remembered my father bounding along through everything, having the time of his life, and decided the repeated agony spells had more to do with it.

“That's fine.” He closed the distance between us and leaned over me, studying me carefully. “Kai, _are_ you all right? Tell me the truth.”

“I…think so. I feel like shite at the moment, but I challenge anyone to have those bloody agony spells cast on them and not feel like death warmed over afterwards.” I smiled at him. “I just need to sleep for maybe a week. If the Archon comes wanting more favours, he'll have to bloody well wait.”

That seemed to satisfy him. He smiled back and said, “Need a hand up?”

Turned out I did. My body had decided that chair was a fine place to settle and didn't want to leave. I used the facilities, washed my hands and face and left it at that. I stripped down to my smallclothes, removed the arm and set it carefully in its spot on my dresser, used the last of my energy to give Dorian a proper kiss goodnight and crawled into bed. I fell asleep to the sound of Swivet squeaking urgently at Dorian about his need to join us on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the details of Dorian and Emil's adventure, read [_Underground_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15613389).


	116. Section 4 - Endings

**_Dream a Little Dream_ **

The fancy dress ball was in full swing. An orchestra was playing something energetic that I vaguely recognized as being popular in Orlais some years ago. People in elaborate finery swirled around me as I tried to weave through them and get off the dance floor. Some of the dancers were in costumes; I saw a raven dancing with a wolf and thought of ancient gods.

I'd nearly made it to the edge when I was swept into the dance by a tall woman in a shimmering gown of metallic silvers and blues. She was wearing a mask that made it look as if her face was carved obsidian. She grasped my hand and spun me back into the crowd.

I was wearing my favourite high, laced boots, black trousers of a heavy weave and a sleeveless black undershirt. My left arm was whole, which told me I was in the Fade and dreaming.

“You know I've been trying to get a dance with you all night — shame on you for being so elusive,” she chided me.

“I don't belong here,” I said. The ballroom was in an elven ruin. All around the edges was tumbled masonry and moonlight shone through gaps in the ceiling. I couldn't see the orchestra and the music seemed to come from everywhere at once.

“But you dance so beautifully,” she said. A couple of indeterminate gender pirouetted by. They were naked from the waist up and pierced up their sides with metal rings. Wire wove back and forth between them so the only way they could part would be to tear the rings out. I wondered if that was something Drusus Pavus had really done.

“Do I know you?” I said.

She laughed. “Now, that would be cheating. You can't cheat at this game.”

“I don't play the Great Game anymore. I despise it.” A tall, thin man with a small, thin moustache gave me a leering smile as he swung past. His partner was a dwarven woman whose sculpted hair was half again as tall as she was.

Her laugh was more honest this time. “Darling, who ever said anything about the Orlesian Children's Hour? You graduated from that game long ago.”

“This isn't about Tevinter, either, is it?” I dipped her then she led me in a series of complicated moves that took all my concentration. We finished at the same moment as the song. She allowed me to lead her off the dance floor to a smattering of applause.

We perched on high stools made of single carved pieces of bone. She held a flute of something translucent and green. I set my own drink to the side. “In a way, everything is about Tevinter,” she said, “Though not in the way Tevinter thinks.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” I said drily.

“Dorian's Black House is not the only thing that wasn't buried as deep and securely as they assumed.”

The orchestra started again and she said, “Oh! They're playing my song. Don't be a stranger next time, darling. You dance divinely.” The mask winked at me. “You're no slouch on the ballroom floor either.”

And she was gone, in the way of dreams. I slid off my stool of bone and left the crowd of whirling, scheming revellers behind. 

I walked through an arched doorway into a room that was also a ruin, but not elven. It looked like the interior of a posh manor house. Light lanced in through high louvered shutters, gaining texture in the still, dust-laden air. I was on a rotunda, with the outer wall (still sporting patches of mouldering wallpaper) on my right, a waist-high railing of bevelled wood on my left. 

I looked over the railing to the sunken room below. The area around it was all book shelves, empty now but for a few volumes bloated by water damage. The centre, I imagined, had been a reading area. There was a lone couch there now, its upholstery torn and stained. The smashed remains of a table littered the floor nearby. There was an undefinable air of sadness about the place. I saw a dark doorway at the other end of the rotunda and headed for it, having no wish to disturb the tableau below.

I walked through the doorway and cast light, for the blackness was complete. A slight, raven-haired elf was sitting at a wooden desk. She smiled at me.

“I'm sorry we never got to talk much,” she said, “but I'm to give you this.” She knelt down behind her desk and gave a small grunt of effort, standing back up with another smile. “Sorry. It's a little awkward.”

She handed me a dead fennec. “Just keep going that way,” she pointed into the black.

I thanked her and moved on. The fennec felt heavy in my hands, its fur soft but slightly greasy.

Even casting light, I could only see the small area just around me. My footsteps sounded dull and muffled. 

After a time, I felt the presence of something walking beside me, though it wasn't yet visible. “Is this yours?” I asked, lifting the fennec fractionally more.

“No, you've always owned that,” my unseen companion replied. Its voice was raspy, falling somewhere between tenor and baritone. It was a voice roughened by years of smoking and drink.

“Was there something you wanted?” I asked.

“I wanted many things,” it said dourly.

“Good for you,” I said. “Is there a point to walking through this void?”

“If there is, no one told me.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I've nowhere else to be.”

“Well, I do.” I stopped, closing my eyes, and concentrated my will, essentially demanding a change of scenery. Sometimes (well, many times) being a mage has its perks.

I opened my eyes and found myself in a rather nice facsimile of one of the pretty parks in Madauros. I saw a bench fashioned in the sleek lines so prevalent in Madauros architecture and sat on it, setting the fennec next to me. It sat up and yawned, adding raw fade to itself as it grew to the size of a Mabari hound. 

“This is nice,” Mischief said in its scratchy voice. “I haven't been here before.”

“I figured that was you. Why were you dead?”

“You _did_ kill me.”

I glared at it. “You're the liveliest dead fennec I've ever met.”

“Meet a lot of dead fennecs, do you?” It chuffed laughter.

“You have no idea.” Unfortunately, I'd encountered scores of them in the real world, because they loved running alongside travellers, but never seemed to have the sense to get out of the way when things started attacking.

It hopped off the bench. “Well, I'll leave you to it.”

“Leave me to what?” I demanded. “You know something.”

“If I told you, I wouldn't be living up to my name. Thanks for the resurrection.” It chuffed at me again and, with a flip of its tail, disappeared into the prettily sculpted bushes.

 _Resurrection? How did I resurrect it?_ I sighed and considered just sitting on the damned bench until I woke up. 

I wondered if I could find the little pocket of the Fade that Dorian had fashioned into his own little personal oasis. If I was lucky, he might even be there. I closed my eyes and concentrated my will again, but when I opened them I was still sitting on my Madauros bench. Fine. What was that line — something trying to tell me someone?

After some minutes of stubbornly sitting in place, I admitted boredom and got up. At least I liked Madauros — even the Fade version. I started in a random direction, wondering at the complete absence of anyone for so much as set decoration.

As I walked, I occasionally saw open doorways in the graceful buildings lining the street. I didn't enter any of them, figuring _no reason to make it easier for whoever's orchestrating this_. 

I passed another small park. This one had a domelike structure constructed of metal bars for children to climb on situated in the centre. There were benches around the perimeter and trees behind the benches. Beneath the structure was a round pool of water. I ventured over to see if it was real water or just an illusion. It looked real, and frighteningly deep. I wondered if any children ever fell into that pool, and if they ever got out once they did.

I thought I saw movement out the corner of my eye and looked up quickly. Behind one of the benches, just in line with the trees, was a statue of a demented-looking black bear holding a fishing pole. It hadn't been there a moment ago. It bared its teeth in another smile. They were yellow and jagged. 

I walked away from the little park, thinking _why am I seeing fucking Arvid everywhere?_

“Why indeed?”

I looked to my right. An elven woman I didn't recognize (yet she looked oddly familiar) was walking next to me. She was tall, like Sera, and had short, tousled hair the colour of coffee. Her eyes were green with little amber flecks.

“I don't think I said that out loud,” I said.

“Does it matter?”

“Probably not,” I admitted. “Are you the one I've been waiting for?”

“I thought it time we talked,” she said.

“Do I know you? I mean, you look familiar, but this _is_ the Fade.”

She laughed. “We've met. I wasn't wearing this face then.”

I had my suspicions, but didn't voice them yet. “But the face looks a bit familiar.”

“I imagine it does. Guessing why should keep you occupied for a time.”

“Is that what I'm supposed to be doing now?”

“Certainly not. My time is too valuable for you to waste on guessing games.”

I wanted to say _You brought it up_ , but didn't. “So what did you want to talk about?”

We were sitting in a booth at a high-end restaurant. I thought it may have been one Dorian and I had gone to in Minrathous, but I wasn't sure. My companion had a mixed drink in front of her. She knew enough about me to provide me with beer.

There was a susurrus of conversation in the background just like the real thing, but when I looked around, the other patrons were all the Archon and Alectius dressed in a variety of outfits. Alectius looked particularly fetching in an off-the-shoulder evening gown a few tables over.

“The beer is real; you're safe to drink it,” she said.

“How can I trust that you're telling the truth?”

“You can't, I suppose, but I _am_ trying to be a good host.”

“I must admit, after the day I've had I could really use a drink,” I said. I met her eyes — now amber with green flecks — and took a careful sip of the beer. It certainly tasted and smelled right. “Of course, rather than being a good host, you could be trying to get me drunk.” I smiled slightly.

She smiled back without showing teeth. “I could be, but you and I both know it would take significantly more than one or two beers to accomplish that.”

I nodded concession. “Will you tell me who you are?”

“Do you truly not know?”

“I have thoughts.”

Now she did laugh. “That, dear boy, is an understatement. With the amount of intellectualizing you and your Dorian indulge in, it's amazing you accomplish as much as you do.”

“If you say 'I suppose you have questions' I might have to do something unseemly and unintellectual,” I said.

“Please. That's not my style.”

“So, Mythal, is this where you tell me what I'm to do? I was already stopped from leaving the orb safely where it was.” I didn't try to disguise the fact that that had annoyed me.

She raised her glass in a small toast before sipping it. “What leads you to believe it would have remained safe down there?”

I took another sip of my drink. It tasted good and if she'd wanted to do something to me, she wouldn't have to stoop to something so amateurish as spiking it. 

“Okay, I admit it might not have. But you've let Kaeso hand it to the Sacer Saeculum. I'm sorry, I don't see how that's a _good_ thing.”

She studied me over the rim of her glass. “You're awfully casual about talking with gods, aren't you?”

“I've met enough of you — both real and aspiring — that the wow factor has worn off,” I said with a shrug. “I accept you're very powerful and could kill me with a thought, so let's get on with the parts to which I _can_ contribute something.”

She smiled. “Lucky for you, I appreciate that attitude. You'll just have to trust me that there are good reasons for another orb to be put into play at this time.”

“I don't suppose that absolves my geas, does it?”

She chuckled, but there was steel underneath it. “It's not that simple, boy. You entered into a contract of your own free will. My own daughter was more than willing to take that contract on. When you did that, you became part of a game that's much bigger than anything you could imagine — and before you say it, I'm aware you have a very vivid imagination. You're familiar with the concept of the long game; well, this is the longest.”

“What's the ultimate goal?” I asked.

“That would be telling,” she said with a teasing smile. “Understand — that is why Fen'Harel failed. He thought he was playing a long game himself, but it was truly short term and self-serving.”

“Well, yes. He spent most of the time asleep, or whatever passes for sleep in that context.” I didn't bother trying to disguise my contempt. “He didn't know or care shite about the world he woke up in.”

She made a noise of agreement. “But that's not what you want to discuss. You want to know how I intend to use you, and how that may affect you and yours.”

“It hardly takes godlike omniscience to figure that out,” I said with a smile to leaven the sarcasm. “But I would appreciate an answer, if you'd be so kind.”

“It's those manners that will get you more of what you want,” she said, eyes sparkling. “Very well. I'll tell you what I told your amatus. Neither you nor he will be harmed by anything I have you do. Nor will you be separated. Having said that, I _will_ have you do a thing or some things in the future. I won't tell you what, or when, so don't ask. It could be that you'll find out _why_ here and there, but that will primarily be up to you to recognize when you see it. Good enough?”

I nodded. “But…I guess the not getting harmed thing is only as it pertains to what you have me do under the auspices of the geas?” 

She understood what I was getting at. “I'm sorry, boy, but the geas and my promise don't mean you gain me as a personal bodyguard.”

I looked down at the table. It had a starched white cloth on it. “I thought as much. I'm just getting very tired of getting hurt, but I keep ending up in situations where that happens. It's…exhausting.”

“You have had more than your share, haven't you?”

There seemed to be a tone of real sympathy in her voice. For some reason that touched me, even though I knew it was likely false. I choked back an unexpected urge to sob, keeping my eyes on the table cloth, and nodded mutely.

“You could have stayed down in your little house in Hasmal and avoided much of this.”

I laughed humourlessly and looked her in the eyes. “No, I couldn't. Not only would I be without Dorian, but I'd still have your geas.”

“Clever lad. Now, finish your drink and have one more. I've got to go. Oh — and well done taking care of that hybrid the last of the Well produced.”

“Don't suppose you'd like to give me my arm back as a reward,” I said glumly. “Seeing as it was your good buddy that made me lose it in the first place.”

“I'd like to, but I can't,” was her surprising answer.

“Oh. Well. Thank you anyway. I appreciate the concessions you made.” I was starting to feel very tired even though I was technically asleep and dreaming.

“Such manners!” she enthused. “I am pleased it was you and not Morrigan — you're much easier to deal with. You have my protection until you've finished your drink, then you may want to leave.”

“What? Why?”

“In a long game as in any, one has opponents. Now that we've spoken here, some may have noticed you.”

“And I suppose these someones will want to torment, torture, injure or simply kill me,” I said flatly.

“I'll do what I can to protect you from those who now see you as my agent, but yes,” she said. “It does seem to be a repeating pattern in your life.”

“One I'd be delighted to break.”

She stood. “Have your drink and get some real sleep, boy. The Fade should be as safe as it ever gets for you once those someones' attention is directed elsewhere, which it soon will be. If it makes you feel any better, you're a very small player in this game.”

I gave her a wry look. “Thanks. I think.”

She didn't disappear; she just was there and then she wasn't. I took her advice, drank my drink (ignoring the other tables, which still had Archons and Alectiuses carrying on animated conversations with each other) and very deliberately exited the Fade for the welcome oblivion of deep sleep.


	117. Dorian - In the Wee, Small Hours

~~

It's your favourite moustachioed Magister, back to impart important occurrences that might otherwise have withered away unresolved in this magnum opus. (And you'll note there's nary an exclamation point in sight.)

I did allow Swivet on the bed as a reward for the sheer dramatic effort he put into achieving his goal. Once I'd showered, I fell into bed gratefully, for I was nearly as exhausted as my amatus. 

I had no idea what time it was when I awoke, but it had to have been hours later because it was full dark out. I sat up and cast a low light. Swivet was no longer on the bed, no doubt having gotten down to use his box in the other room. I'd likely find him on the couch out there, as the bed's just beyond his ability to scale without a boost.

Kai was still deeply asleep, lying on his right side with half the blankets kicked off. I watched him for a bit; he barely twitched. I would never admit this publicly, but there are times when I've woken before him and marvel that he's there beside me. 

You see, that was never supposed to happen. I had convinced myself it was never going to happen. Relationships were for proper couples that had the potential to produce children. Then I went and fell in love with an intense, charming southern mage with a delightfully dry sense of humour and the fashion sense of a Tevinter mortician who insisted we _could so_ have a proper relationship (and it was Kai who was adamant that he wanted more than a casual dalliance), and damned if he wasn't right.

When I became a Magister and moved back home, I was once again convinced that was the end of that, because two men just wasn't done in Tevinter society. Once again he proved me wrong, and it's one of the exceedingly rare times I was happy to be so.

I don't often mention this sort of thing, for I do have a reputation for witty insouciance to uphold, but I worry about Kai. He doesn't just look intense — he is a very intense man, not that he sees it. His tendency to throw himself into things (again, not literally — I really must find a different way to express that) can be wonderful, but it's also one of his greatest flaws.

He's right in his passions more often than not — the determination he showed to ensure our relationship continued and grew, and the way he taught himself to use his prosthetic arm being two examples — but when he dives headfirst into things without fully thinking them through, it hasn't always worked out for the best. Drinking the Well of Sorrows was one of his more spectacular mistakes, and I fear we haven't seen the last of those consequences.

I mostly worry about things he's had little to no part in initiating. Simply put, I've seen him get grievously injured too many times and I worry how much endurance he's got left. The earlier incidences weren't his fault — no one could foresee the armour failure that gave him those scars, no one knew what Solas really was or what his Anchor was going to do to its host, and certainly no one could guess anyone would be driven to homicidal rage over Livius Erimond. But lately…

He'd nearly killed himself saving _my_ life. I'm grateful, of course, but it still rankles. I can't help but feel I should have been prepared. And rather than be annoyed with me, he was grateful when I managed to help him heal from the injuries I was responsible for. I can't tell him any of this because he'd insist I have nothing to feel guilty about. Yet I do.

That was bad enough. But when we were down in _my_ ancestor's house, even after all that, I _agreed_ to let him go in first and alone. Yes, we couldn't leave Emil on his own, but Kai could have stayed with his father. It should have been me enduring those agony spells.

Kai was quite stoic about it, of course. He always is about _serious_ injuries, though he'll carry on like he's about to die if he doesn't get his coffee in the morning. (I've decided to consider that endearing rather than annoying.) But it was evident he wasn't bouncing back as easily this time. His exhaustion was palpable, as was his inability to focus like he normally does. Both understandable, and I'm sure a great deal of it was the after-effects of those ghastly agony spells. Lucien was evincing the same difficulties with concentration and Kai had endured more punishment than he.

But still.

I worry.

These little tasks the Archon has set us on are not typically bureaucratic in nature. They're dangerous and unpredictable because it's in those situations my amatus shines.

And the world has an unpleasant habit of throwing things at us that inevitably seem to be mad and deadly.

I wonder how much more he can endure before something manages to break him.

And I wonder if I'll be strong and wise and _able_ enough to pick up the pieces and help him put them back together.

~#~

My, that was depressing. Never fear, I have no intention of turning this into introspection corner. Without further ado, I shall recount the happenings of that very strange night.

While Kai continued to sleep the sleep of the just, I was driven out of bed by physical demands that would brook no argument. Once I had silenced those, there was simply no point in trying to get back to sleep. I fetched my clothes and went into the front room to get dressed.

Swivet greeted me with a trill. Kai is his first love, but he accepts me as a substitute. 

As we might have an intruder still lurking, my ensemble was a trifle more on the practical side: blue-black trousers with some deep red piping as accent, high leather boots with a matte black finish offset by a series of silver-buckled straps up the sides, and a shirt modelled on a classic work shirt style, with a lace-up front, pointed collar and embroidered cuffs. It was a shimmering grey with a hint of blue, designed to complement my eyes. The embroidery was a delicate geometric pattern in dark grey, also chased with hints of blue.

Once I'd gotten my hair under control, I said to Swivet, “Shall we get breakfast or capture the bounder who's invaded our house, whichever comes first?”

He squeaked agreement, though he was likely just responding to 'breakfast'. 

We walked out the door and I warded it after so only Kai and I could open it. He didn't need random intruders disturbing him. 

“It occurs to me that we may not have anyone in the kitchen at the moment. I didn't think to check if the rest of the staff had made it out,” I told Swivet. He gave a short series of clicks that could have been agreement or indifference. It did convince me a visit to the kitchen was necessary. 

“What time do you suppose it is?”

Swivet didn't know. 

Though I kept an eye out and some spells ready, we didn't see another soul all the way to the kitchen. We entered through the big swinging door to find that room as dark and silent as the rest of the house. I activated the lights with a thought. Everything was clean, so it could be that I simply got up at a bizarre time of night.

As I have no talent for or interest in cooking, we raided the larder, coming up with sliced bread, meat and cheese and half a berry pie. I heated water for a cup of tea (after having to go on a hunt for the tea itself), put plates together for Swivet and myself, remembered that he might need a bowl of water and got him that as well, and had a weirdly quiet breakfast. I felt terribly domestic and competent after all that unfamiliar domestic labour.

Once we'd finished I felt at loose ends. It was the middle of the night, but I was wide awake and wasn't in the mood to read or do a spot of research. I had a vague thought I might look for the man with the accent. I deactivated the kitchen lights and cast a small one to accompany me. 

With Swivet providing four-legged escort services, I began a methodical search of the house. I was concluding that my quarry was either exceptionally well-hidden or had left the premises entirely when I saw a light flickering in the games room. Dismissing my own light, I gave my eyes a moment to adjust then stealthed my way into the room. 

I was creeping very successfully toward my unsuspecting quarry when Swivet ruined it all by voicing his 'hello' trill and trotting past me. Emil turned in his seat at the gaming table to greet the nug, at which point I gave up all pretence of stealth.

“Have a seat,” he said. A single candle was burning in a holder on the table. “Fortunately someone in the house made allowances for those of us who can't conjure our own lights.”

I sat at enough of an angle from him that we could face each other comfortably. “You wouldn't happen to know what time it is, would you?” I said by way of greeting.

“About half past three in the morning, give or take,” he replied. “I went to bed after washing up, so naturally I awakened at the maker-forsaken hour of half past two.”

“Where are Jasia and the others?”

“Oh, Jass and Danae went to bed about twenty minutes ago. It's late, you know. August had to go back to the city. How's Kai?”

I sighed. “Still asleep. He needs it.”

Emil made a noise of agreement. I could have cast light, but somehow the candlelight felt more comfortable.

“So…are we good now?” I asked.

“You and I?”

“That was the general thrust of the question, yes.”

“I thought that was obvious after everything that just happened. I did say you're not bad for a Vint.” He smiled, I assume to lessen the insult.

“It was still possible you put your reservations aside either for Kai's sake or until we got out of there.”

He made another agreeable noise. Kai wasn't kidding about Emil feeling perfectly comfortable letting conversations go silent. 

I was just starting to feel an overwhelming urge to say something when he continued, “Never thought I'd have a positive thought about a V- , excuse me, a Tevinter, let alone a Magister. I still look upon most of you as the enemy, but I'll admit I've grown to like and respect you. Your friend Mae seems all right as well.”

“I appreciate that.” I didn't add anything clever. The atmosphere was all wrong for that.

“I wasn't planning on liking you, but there you have it. Most important to my mind is you're good for Kai.” 

The candlelight made his face look mysterious, all sharp planes and angles, flame reflecting bright motes in his blue-grey eyes. 

“I try to be. I'm pleased you think I'm successful,” I said.

“I won't lie — I thought you might be using him in some way. From what I understand that's standard procedure at the higher levels of your system.”

“There is a great deal of truth to that,” I admitted. “We've had many ages to perfect the art of creative manipulation and backstabbing. The most casual conversation normally has more layers than a tiered wedding cake made entirely of Filo pastry, and that's just at the dinner parties.”

He smiled. “Then you understand my concern. Kai may have been leading the Inquisition when you met him, and he's certainly bright, but I don't believe he'd had a great deal of experience with…personal relationships.”

“If it helps at all, he proved to be far more adept than I at navigating that labyrinth.”

His “Hm” sounded amused. He lapsed into silence again.

I waited, understanding that this was his preferred method of communication. It was quite clever, really, as there are a great many people who will start talking just to fill those disconcerting silences, and in their agitation, let things slip. At the same time, he gave himself time to choose his words carefully. I was already seeing times that could be most effective in dealing with my fellow Magisters.

He toyed with the candle holder, spinning it slowly and making the flame dance. “I'll also allow you might be good for Tevinter if you can do even a portion of what you say you're aiming for.”

“Thank you, Emil.” I chanced a smile. “I must say, that's more than I expected from you.”

“I fancy myself a reasonable man. I've even been known to change my opinion when I've been proven wrong.”

“Your son does the same. It's confused any number of people over the years.”

He seemed to like that. I thought he might ask me more about Kai, or us, or what happened the night before or even Tevinter, but instead he said, “Did anyone ever catch the accented fellow?”

“I don't know,” I admitted. “I just got up. You're the first person I've seen. I don't even know if we're going to need to go rescue the rest of the staff.”

“Feel like having a look for him?”

I grinned. “Emil, I believe you're developing a taste for adventure.”

He gave a small snort of laughter. “Always had one, but as Bann my responsibilities precluded too many forays into such frivolous pursuits. I daresay I wouldn't enjoy it on the level that you and Kai have apparently experienced, but I can get behind hunting down a scoundrel or two.”

“I was planning on doing the same, but we found you first.”

“Then shall we?”

I had to ask. “You don't have any more questions?”

He stood, so I followed suit. “I have many questions. However, I don't feel this is the time to ask them. Some I may never ask.”

“You're an interesting man, Emil.”

“Generally speaking, that's not so, but I have my moments.”

I cast a subtle light and, keeping an eye out for the intruder all the while, we fetched my staff and Emil's borrowed longsword then resumed the methodical search I'd begun, Swivet close at our heels. Everything looked undisturbed. I was starting to wonder if Lucien had imagined the young man with the thick accent.

We stopped for a moment at our bedroom so I could check on Kai, who was still asleep (I admit I took an extra moment to ensure it was sleep, not something terrible), and continued on to the guest quarters. There was light spilling from under Danae's door, so Emil knocked softly.

At her “Come in,” we entered the suite. 

As we took in the tableau before us, Swivet made a low, growling noise, laying his ears flat back against his skull.

Danae was seated in a high-backed chair, elbows resting on its arms, loosely grasping the fireplace poker that she'd set across the arms like a safety bar. Her hair was wildly mussed, there were scratch marks on her forearms (the sleeves on her aquamarine, diamond-patterned top had been rolled up past her elbows) and red, swollen marks on her left cheek and chin. There was a small crust of blood beneath her nose and a streak on the back of her right hand that was likely from wiping her nose. She looked furious.

The object of her fury — and presumably her attacker — was parked in an overstuffed armchair, tied up with belts and what appeared to be torn sheets. He had longish blond hair with dark roots, deep brown eyes and a doltish look on his face. 

“Danae, what —” Emil said.

“This _asshole_ was _waiting_ for me!” Danae gestured with the poker and the bound man flinched.

I leaned on my staff, relaxing as it seemed Danae had the situation under control. “I take it you know him?”

“Dorian, Father, meet Enzo Cabrera. Enzo came here to _rescue_ me, and when I wouldn't be rescued, he tried to beat me unconscious and rescue me anyway.” She gave the man a glare that would etch glass.

Emil gave him a coolly assessing once-over. “Is that so?”

Enzo said, “F-father?”

“Shut up, Enzo,” Danae snapped. “Dorian, is there somewhere we can stick this bellend until morning? I'm tired and I don't want to watch him all night.”

“Of course,” I said. “I believe I can provide something more aesthetically pleasing than the bedsheets and your belts to bind him with as well.”

“As long as it's painful. Add a scratchy bag over his head and I'll be even happier,” she replied. “Where's Kai?”

“Still asleep,” I said, casting a binding spell on Enzo.

“He's lucky. I should be asleep right now. Can I stop guarding him?” 

At my affirmative she stood, marched over to him and hit him in the face. And I do mean _hit_ with a closed fist rather than a delicate slap. “You do _not_ try to get violent with me,” she said. “Put him somewhere horrible and uncomfortable, would you?”

I agreed to, but ended up locking him in a small spare bedroom. It was drab and empty but for a dresser, a washbasin and a small bed. It also had an attached room with an equally utilitarian privy so the cleaning staff wouldn't come across anything nasty in the room after he left (providing he didn't do something deliberate). 

Emil stayed to talk to his daughter, so once again I was at loose ends. With Swivet still shadowing me, I ended up returning to our room. I removed my boots and stretched out on the bed, wondering whether it would be worth my while to find a book to pass the time with. Against all expectations, I fell asleep again.

~#~

I wasn't sure what woke me. It was either that my shirt was bunching uncomfortably in the middle of my back or Kai was finally stirring. I sat up and saw he was lying on his back, apparently studying the ceiling. I said, “Good morning?”

He blinked and lost that distant look as he turned his attention to me. “Hey. How long did I sleep? Is there coffee?”

I smiled at this evidence that he was back to his usual self. 

“I don't know precisely, but you slept a long time, and we may have to get our own coffee.”

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Really? Why?”

“Because I don't know if the rest of the household staff made it out of the pit yet. I fear we forgot about them in our haste to leave.”

“Oh.” He went silent for a moment then added, “Oops.”

I stood, trying to pull my clothes back into order and smooth the wrinkles out of them. I also cast the spell to call a servant, wondering if we'd get a response. “How are you feeling?” I made sure to keep my tone light.

“Hand me my arm, would you? Thank you.” He attached the prosthesis, studying his left hand critically as he flexed it. “I guess I'm all right. Probably just need coffee.”

“Why? What's wrong?” I sat back down on the bed, but was careful not to let any of the real worry I'd been feeling show.

He shook his head, looking annoyed. I took that to be a good sign. “I just feel…off. Unsettled. I had a dream.”

“About?” I prompted.

“I don't remember.”

I may have been imagining it, but I could have sworn there was a brief pause before he claimed not to remember. _What are you hiding from me, amatus, and why?_ I thought but didn't say.

He gave me a wry smile. “Sorry. I probably sound daft, but…here and there I feel terrified that our luck's going to give out. That sooner or later there's going to be something one or both of us won't be able to come back from.”

“It doesn't sound daft,” I assured him. It was unsettling, having my earlier thoughts echoed back at me. “It sounds sensible. We've had more than our share of close calls over the years.”

“It's more than that,” he said. He sounded cross, but when he looked at me his eyes were wide and dismayed. “You _died_ in front of me, Dorian. That's not just close.”

“And you brought me back even though you have no talent at that sort of thing,” I countered. “Overall, if anyone should be disturbed it should be me. I should never have let you go after Drusus alone like that.” _Oh dear. I hadn't meant to say that._

He squinted at me. “Why not? We went over why it had to be me.”

“No, _you_ went over why it should be you and I went along with you. You have a very bad habit of thinking you have to do everything, amatus. Then you end up falling through my eluvian three quarters dead or I finally make it into the room only to find you screaming on the floor.” 

I didn't exactly snap at him, but I came close. I was seeing it all over again as I spoke, and I don't mind admitting it scared me badly. I do not enjoy being scared, badly or otherwise.

He gave me a sulky frown. “First, I did not volunteer for the circumstances surrounding the eluvian as you well know and second, the effects of the agony spells were only temporary.”

I leaned toward him, looking him in the eyes. “Can you be sure of that, Kai? You weren't acting yourself last night. You were having trouble concentrating. I know you were exhausted, but still. What if what happens next time _isn't_ temporary?”

Mien tense and angry, he started to speak and stopped himself. I waited while he took a deep breath, a little impressed as he visibly calmed himself. “What would you have me do, Dorian? Stay here and take up knitting while you go out and save Tevinter singlehandedly?”

A knock came at the door, saving me from having to answer him immediately. I opened it to find one of the kitchen servants. As I'd be quite the cad not to, I asked first if the others had made it back all right. She said they all had, though a few of them had to be given healing draughts and go straight to bed rest. I congratulated her and ensured her House Pavus would show its appreciation, then requested coffee be brought. She promised to do so straightaway.

I turned back to find Kai had pulled on a pair of trousers and was rifling through a stack of undershirts (all sleeveless, all black, which made me wonder why he was bothering to rifle). It may have just been me, but the scars on his left side seemed to be standing out more harshly than usual. He picked a shirt that looked no different from all the others, pulled it on and looked at me expectantly. Unfortunately, he hadn't forgotten his question.

I ran a hand through my hair, making a mental note that the sides needed trimming. “Coffee's coming,” I said.

“I heard. I'm counting the moments. What about my question, love?”

“You don't want to wait for the coffee?”

He didn't, but he grunted, “Fine,” and glared at himself in the mirror. “Andraste's balls, I need to bloody shave again.” 

I find it amusing that's he's terribly haphazard about shaving his face but fastidious about not letting his head get much past thick stubble stage.

“You could let your hair grow,” I suggested.

“You could shave yours.”

Neither of us meant it.

The door opened again marginally as Swivet nosed his way in to say hello to his revered owner. We absconded to the outer sitting room and a few moments later they brought coffee, which guaranteed the conversation would proceed more happily. 

Once fortified, Kai sat on the couch so his nug could sit next to him rather than go through the ordeal of Swivet trying to climb into his lap. I took the armchair across from him. 

He gave me that expectant look again. “Well? You've had time to think about it now. What is it you imagine me doing?”

I smoothed my moustache, giving the points a little pinch. I admit it was a stalling tactic. “I'm just thinking perhaps when the Archon sends the next request around we should tell him you can't.”

He barked laughter. “You're going to tell the Archon _no_? And you accuse _me_ of throwing myself into deadly situations.”

“Well, perhaps just suggest there are others that could do the more hazardous missions.”

“Madauros didn't look hazardous on the surface. At least, no more than being in Minrathous when the Magisterium's in session.”

“I just have this feeling that things are spiralling out of our control.”

He grinned. “Dorian. When have things ever _not_ been like that? What control we have over all this shite is mostly illusory.”

That honest grin forced a smile out of me despite my worries. “Touché. But amatus—”

He looked at me with sweet seriousness. “You realize we're arguing about being in complete agreement. I don't want to see you hurt or worse. You don't want that to happen to me. Yet we're in this very odd situation.”

I raised an eyebrow and took a sip of my coffee. “Is that what you call this? Odd?”

He stroked Swivet absently; the nug was using his right thigh as a pillow. “I won't lie to you, Dorian. There are times I'm utterly terrified about what we're doing. And I am tired. I'm tired of getting hurt. I'm tired of everyone wanting to use us. I'm tired of illusory choices. Fuck, sometimes I'm just bloody _tired_. As you so annoyingly pointed out, I'm not a kid anymore. But I'm also not so old that you should be worrying I'm no longer up to it.”

“Last night scared me,” I admitted. 

He gave me a knowing look. “And you felt guilty, and you _hate_ feeling guilty.”

I rolled my eyes. "All right, yes. Curse you for knowing me too well. It doesn't change the fact that what happened was frightening, and I'm not inclined to brush it off as just one of those things.”

He sighed. “I was frightened too. Truthfully, when I'd run out of ways to stall that thing and you were still nowhere to be seen, I was flat out terrified. I did what I could but…” He shrugged. “It wasn't enough.” 

He looked away from me, studying Swivet with a sad, bleak expression that made me feel sick and anxious. “I _am_ sorry it took so long. You should never have—“

“Dorian,” he said warningly, meeting my eyes as he gave me a half smile.

“I apologize,” I said with a sigh of my own. “No more second-guessing. So what do we do? Just continue asking 'how high' when the Archon says 'jump'?"

“Of course not. We do what we can to make ourselves safe. You keep working with Mae to make the Lucerni a force to be reckoned with. We build networks outside the established ones, just like our eluvians, and just like the best days of the Inquisition. We talk to the cast-offs and the people living on the fringes like Fadik and, yes, Kaeso. And we get ready, because it's not just the Magisterium or the Archon we have to worry about. There's a fuck of a lot more going on, and we've been put in a position where it's likely to affect us.”

“Kai…” I wondered how to phrase this so it wouldn't blow up. “Are you privy to information I don't have? The only thing I've seen pointing to anything new on the horizon is your insisting we allow Kaeso to deliver that orb. Everything else is the usual Qunari, political machinations, social stresses and the occasional mad demigod trying to either remake or destroy the world.”

He gave me the strangest look. I couldn't begin to interpret what it meant; I couldn't even decide what expression it really was. Blankly, caringly sad in an annoyed way? 

He said, “Just extrapolating, love. Castra Nicia wasn't exactly usual, though it bloody figures it was Venatori-based again. The fact that you and your family have literally spent the last five hundred years living on top of a house of horrors that wasn't quite as dead as everyone thought isn't normal. Pictor's experiments on Qunari in Madauros could even start something. I'm just saying there are people playing long games here, and all in all I'd rather be involved enough in a tertiary way that we don't get caught by surprise.”

It all sounded perfectly logical, and certainly followed the sorts of tracks his mind tends to imagine, but still… “Kai,” I said softly, “that's all well and good. It makes sense, even. But what if next time they take more than your arm?”

He looked away from me and replied just as softly, “Then I trust you to kill me if things become unbearable.”

 _Damn you, Kai._ “That's not fair.”

He looked back up at me. He seemed faintly amused. “I'd do the same for you.”

I could have gotten upset. I had every reason to, but neither one of us wanted that. There's an ebb and flow to deadly serious conversations, at least between the two of us, and this one had reached its limit. So I said, “Kai Trevelyan, you are impossible.”

“But charming in my own way,” he said with a smirk.

We dropped back into our usual comfortable rhythm of conversation, but I filed away the one we'd just had to think on later. Kai had left some questionable gaps, and that wasn't normally his style with me. If anything, he's open to a fault. I wondered what sort of trouble that signalled and determined to figure it out before it could strike.

~~


	118. A Geas for Enzo

After our loaded conversation came to an end, Dorian told me that Danae had subdued the bastard with the accent who'd accompanied Drusus into the house. We'd have to get everyone together to hear her story and decide what to do with him.

We finished our coffee and stood. Dorian closed the few steps separating us and pulled me into an embrace I was only too happy to return. 

“You can play at being stoic about these repeated near-misses, but don’t think for a moment I’m going to let you get away with it,” he murmured, breath warm on my ear. “I do not and will not accept that you are expendable. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I replied, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t have handled a fraction of all this without you. You’re why I feel it’s worth it to keep trying.” I smiled. “Now kiss me, and let’s go hear the tale of how my sister kicked a man’s arse.”

He smiled back and kissed me, running his nails strongly down my back as he did. I pressed into him, running my hands up and down his back with equal pressure, stopping to cup his buttocks and pull him closer. 

Down at our feet, my nug made his loud, rusty hinge noise followed by a series of clicks.

We pulled apart reluctantly, both grinning and a bit breathless. “I think His Lordship disapproves,” I said.

“Much as I hate interrupting where this was going, I suppose we are expected to make an appearance,” Dorian said.

“We’re going to continue this later.”

“Oh, yes.”

With Swivet trotting smugly at our heels, we ventured out to find my family.

I caught Dorian looking at me speculatively a few times. I could guess what it was about, but couldn't say anything. Literally. It seemed Mythal's ban on my saying anything having to do with her was still in full effect, though I'd tried to push it as far as I could. I knew Dorian suspected I was keeping something from him, but I honestly couldn't utter a word about it.

As we walked I assessed how I felt. Dorian had made me a little worried with his concern. Aside from some residual soreness and the realization I hadn't eaten for at least a day and a half, I felt fine. “Can we discuss things over food?” I asked. “I think I'm kind of starving.”

We all wound up around the table on the big back patio. The kitchen was in a level of disarray after the ordeal with Drusus, but they still managed to deliver quite a nice assortment of food. For a time I concerned myself with that more than any conversation, eating far more than I normally did. Apparently magical torture also makes one ravenous afterward.

While I ate, Danae told the story of how she managed to vanquish our mysterious intruder, who wasn't mysterious at all to her. She told our parents about Enzo, adding that she'd gotten that letter from him while she was here. “So we knew he might show up, but with everything else going on, everyone kind of forgot.”

“You didn't answer the letter, did you?” Father asked.

“Of course not. Even a letter telling him to stop writing would've encouraged him, so I just threw it away.”

“And when he did show up, it was with Drusus, who proceeded to start killing people, so no one gave Enzo a second thought,” I added.

Danae nodded. “You know how late it was when we went to bed. Well, I walked into my room, lit the lamp and he was _sitting_ there in the dark!”

Mother frowned. “Wouldn't that mean he was sitting in your rooms waiting for nearly two days?”

Danae nodded, grimacing. “He'd figured out which room was mine because he'd been watching us for days.”

“From here on the grounds?” Dorian asked. He didn't look pleased with her affirmative.

When Danae walked into her room and saw Enzo sitting there in her armchair, she'd demanded to know what he was doing in Tevinter, let alone _in her room_.

He'd pulled a small, square bottle out of his pocket and pointed it at her. There was a spray mechanism at the top, activated when you squeezed the bulb attached to it. He squeezed frantically, sending a foul-smelling fog into her face.

She yelled, “Enzo, what the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?”

He smiled at her. “Don't worry. The spell is broken now.”

“What spell? There's no spell, Enzo. What in the name of Andraste's saggy _tits_ are you doing here?” she'd demanded again, swiping her shirtsleeve across her face.

He'd given his spray bottle a look of betrayal then launched into a mad but impassioned rant about how he knew she wouldn't really have left him and that's when he realized she had to have been held against her will.

 _How in the void did you come up with that?_ she asked.

 _Because who would voluntarily go to Tevinter to live?_ was his answer. Father let out a snort of laughter at that and Dorian rolled his eyes.

As Enzo was obviously unhinged, she tried to talk calmly but firmly to him, telling him she had come voluntarily and all she was doing was visiting family.

“Oh, I know all about your brother,” Enzo said darkly. “A mage who moved to Tevinter to take up their evil cause. I didn't realize his magister was another man, but nothing Vints do should surprise me, so that's my fault.”

I asked what he'd known about me, but she couldn't say. He'd gone off on another rant about how obviously Dorian and I had her magically mind-controlled until we could sell her to the highest bidder, and though she wouldn't appreciate it until he got her away from our evil influence, he was going to rescue her.

“Rescue me from who?” Danae demanded. “Enzo, the only people here are my brother, his amatus, some staff and my _parents_ for Andraste's sake!”

“What about the bearded mongrel who took you out of here?” Enzo said sulkily.

She'd thought, _maybe if he hears this he'll see it's fucking over_. “He's my betrothed, Enzo. We're getting _married_. So you may as well go back to Antiva. I'm sure there are all sorts of girls there who'd love to have you as a boyfriend.”

He sat there glowering at her, twisting a strand of hair around his finger over and over. She'd never felt truly afraid of Enzo, but now he was starting to make her nervous. Keeping her tone calm, she said, “Enzo, just go home. If you need a ride to the city, I'm sure we can do that for you. But you have to understand: I'm not being held prisoner, I'm not being ensorcelled, and I'm _happy_ here. All you and I did was date for a few months and it ended. I never loved you, Enzo. We're too different and deep down you know that.”

She wondered if anyone would hear if she needed to scream for help, and began assessing what she might be able to use as a weapon.

Suddenly he leapt up and she flinched, but tried to cover the involuntary movement. He bent behind the armchair and emerged with his mandolin, giving her a bright smile that smacked of denial and desperation.

“I've written you a song. Would you like to hear it?”

“Enzo…” She felt that saying 'yes' would just egg him on, but saying 'no' might send him over the edge he was teetering on.

He apparently took her lack of response as an affirmative, because he plopped back into the chair and fiddled about tuning the instrument. 

Danae considered just making a run for it, but that would leave him still wandering the house and she couldn't be sure he wouldn't catch her before she could find help. She walked casually over to the fireplace, propping one arm on the mantel and leaning against it as though she was relaxed.

His mandolin playing was competent as always, but the lyrics were dreadful — treacly, verging on terrifying descriptions of his love and determination to possess her. She wondered if she'd have to kill him, or if he'd try to kill her.

 _Two mages powerful enough to take down demigods were in the same house and she couldn't get to either one_. It might have been funny if she hadn't been looking at the blissed-out expression on Enzo's face as he sang of keeping her forever.

She took a deep breath. “Enzo. Stop.”

He blinked at her. “But it's our song, Danae. It's _your_ song.”

“No, it's not. It is never going to happen, Enzo, and I don't want to hear the rest of it. Put the mandolin away. I'll get someone to bring a coach around so you can go back to the city. From there you should be able to book passage back to Antiva easily.” She looked him in the eyes, unsympathetic and implacable. It was a risk, but she thought the bigger risk would be to imply he might be able to sway her.

“No.”

He set his mandolin down and stared up at her, eyes dark and angry and confused. “No, Danae. You don't understand. They've mind-magicked you. I have to take you away from here for your own good.”

She thought, _shit_. Folding her arms across her, chest she said, “Leave, Enzo. Now. Or I'll have to get someone to help you out.”

He shouted, “ _No!_ ” and launched himself at her.

Even though she'd been prepared, she didn't quite manage to dodge him. He tried to grab her in a bear hug, babbling nonsense about love and _fixing_ her as he grappled with her in a grotesque parody of affection.

She blocked his advances with her arms, trying to angle for a retreat that wouldn't put her in a corner of the room. As he saw her managing to slip farther away, he stopped scrabbling at her arms. To her utter shock, he snarled and struck out with a fist, clipping her painfully on the left cheek. She stumbled for a moment and he grabbed the front of her shirt, yanking her hard towards him.

Remembering some snatch of a lesson on combat, she didn't fight him but put some of her own weight into the lunge forward he'd initiated and, squeezing her eyes shut, slammed her forehead into his face.

He howled and dropped his grip. She scrambled away from him, bumping into a side table and sending all its contents onto the floor. She threw a paperweight at him that had rolled her way and dashed behind the settee.

For a moment they stared at each other. Enzo was panting, his long hair straggling into his face. His lower lip was swollen and bleeding, so she assumed that was where her forehead connected.

Danae snuffled, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, saw a streak of blood there. She chanced quick glances around the room, still trying to find an effective weapon. The only ones she could see would put her back within Enzo's reach, not that the settee was much of a shield. She needed to get more creative.

Enzo, meanwhile was demanding, “ _Why are you making me do this, Danae?_ ”

“I'm not _making_ you do shite,” she shot back. “You just won't take no for an answer.”

“Because I know you don't mean it,” he said shrilly and launched himself toward her. 

She feinted right and ran left, grabbing a pretty vase off the end table as she dashed by. She flung it at Enzo, heard glass breaking and Enzo's shout. She was sure she was going to have to endure Lucien's wrath over the mounting number of broken and damaged items in her room. 

Not daring to look behind, she reached her goal, yanking a light, decorative tapestry off the wall with her left hand and snatching up the fire poker with her right. Enzo was considerate enough to give a hoarse shout as he closed in on her, so Danae spun around and, rather than depend on the poker, _floofed_ the entire tapestry in his face.

The tapestry obligingly tangled itself around his neck and arm as he batted at it. Danae used his distraction to jump out of the way and hit his knee as hard as she could with the poker. He went down cursing. Danae didn't wait to see what kind of damage it might have done, just kept hitting anything she could hit. It was imperative he not be given the chance to get to his feet.

He twisted around onto his back and started to sit up, stopping as she pressed the pointy part of the poker into his throat. “Lie back down or I'll push this right out the back of your neck,” she commanded.

“You wouldn't,” he croaked, but he lay back down. “Now what? If you take that away I'll just get back up. You can't hold it to my throat forever,” he said.

He was right. She had to come up with a way to incapacitate him long enough to, well, incapacitate him. Finally she ordered him to lie on his stomach and sat on him while she tore the tapestry into strips (jabbing him occasionally with the poker so he wouldn’t get any ideas) and used them to bind his hands and feet. When he whined, she helped him into a chair then spent a little longer securing his legs at the knees with her belt and adding tapestry strip bindings until she felt he was well and truly trussed up. Then she took her poker, sat in the chair across from him and started thinking about what to do with him. That's what she'd been doing when Dorian and Father finally showed up.

Everyone congratulated her on her courage and resourcefulness. 

I said, “So what do you want done with him?” I felt I could cheerfully kill him, but it was her call.

She raked her fingers through her hair. “Good question, brother. I've been wondering that all day. What I'd like is to make him forget I ever existed.” She looked from me to Dorian hopefully. “I don't suppose you…?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. I've no talent for mind magic.”

“Nor have I,” Dorian added.

“Why does nobody ever mention that you mages have entire categories of magic you can't do?”

“Because next thing you know, magic would start sounding like something that can be discussed sensibly,” I said.

“Could you – um, or I – hire someone to do that?”

“More than likely,” Dorian said.

“Is that really a good idea?” Mother asked. “It seems to me it would be dangerous, messing with someone's mind like that. How could they be sure they were erasing only the correct memories?”

“Mother's got a point,” I said. “It's generally better to stay away from mind magic. It can go sideways on you.”

“Well, I don't want to _kill_ him; I just want him to go away forever,” Danae said.

Even though it was rather early, I summoned a servant and requested beer. After what I'd gone through over the last few days, I decided I deserved a few. Of course, that put the thought in everyone else's head. They all agreed with my rationalization and soon we were debating Enzo's fate over drinks.

Father suggested handing him over to the authorities, but no one was enthusiastic about that. It would involve explaining things, and no matter what, because it happened at a Magister's house there would be gossip.

Danae was still agitating for erasing his memories of her, but we overruled her as that level of interference would be dangerous and prohibitively expensive.

Finally Dorian suggested, “Geas?”

“It would work as long as we get the wording correct,” I agreed. We had a little experience constructing them, and so far the ones we'd done had turned out well.

We explained to my family that we could essentially compel Enzo to stay far away from Danae, Tevinter, Ostwick and all of us. Danae agreed if we couldn't excise his memories of her entirely, this was the next best thing. So while they entertained themselves, Dorian and I removed ourselves to the library and cooked up a solid little geas for Enzo. It took us a little over an hour, but we only had to consult one reference book, and it just confirmed we were doing it right.

Danae wanted to come with us when we laid the spell on him, but we convinced her it was more sensible if she stayed away. Dorian unlocked and –warded the door. Enzo was sitting on the end of the narrow bed, looking worse for the wear. His hair was tangled and straggly, he had a fat lip and scrapes and bruises on his hands and arms and looked like he'd slept in a ditch. It served him right.

He glowered at us. “Well? Here to enslave me?” he said snottily.

“What makes you think anyone would want to purchase you?” Dorian asked.

“We're here to see about getting you out of here,” I said.

“Where's Danae?”

“She doesn't want to see you, so you won't be seeing her.”

“You mean you're keeping her from me!”

I shrugged. “Have it your way. Either way you're not going to see her again.”

His eyes grew round as he looked at the two of us. “You're going to sacrifice me for blood magic!” He surged off the bed, apparently thinking he'd make a break for it.

I pushed him back on the bed with a force spell, and Dorian gave him a very non-lethal zap of electricity. 

“Sit, Enzo. No one's sacrificing you. We're just going to arrange so you don't bother my sister again.”

“You won't stop me loving her,” he declared dramatically.

“We wouldn't dream of it,” Dorian said with an indulgent smile. “However, we _shall_ make it so you and your neverending love can write stirring sonnets about having to always love your unreachable princess from afar.”

“What the void is that supposed to mean?” He suddenly looked a lot less distressed and dramatic.

“We're going to offer you something and you're going to accept it,” I said.

“I won't!” His voice jumped up a register.

“Oh, but you will, Enzo, or bad things will happen,” Dorian said darkly. I felt him cast and a faint purplescent glow surrounded Danae's erstwhile suitor.

He blanched as images of whatever he was afraid of were pulled from his mind and given phantasmic realism by Dorian's spirits.

“You see, if you insist on continuing to pursue Danae Trevelyan, be assured you will be haunted by that decision. Literally and relentlessly.” Dorian stopped short of twirling his moustache, but only just.

“That's not _fair_ ,” Enzo whined. “Make it stop!”

“Very well.” Dorian dismissed his spell. “But it will come back if you don't do as we ask.”

“ _Ask?_ ” Enzo snapped, panting.

“Well, require,” I said.

“What are you trying to do to me?”

“We're just going to cast a spell. You have to accept it.”

He scowled. “What sort of spell?”

“It simply makes it impossible for you to approach Danae or any of her family. You also won't be able to travel in Tevinter or Ostwick.”

“Impossible how? I thought you had to be there to cast spells on people.” His eyes darted back and forth between us.

“This one is different,” I said. “Do you know what a geas is?”

Enzo said, “Um.”

We explained it to him. 

“So you see, it won't harm you; you just won't be able to go a few places or see a handful of people, only one of which you even care about seeing,” I said.

“If it won't hurt me how's it gonna stop me?”

“The moment you try to go against it you'll start feeling incredibly uncomfortable, and the more you push the more you'll feel what you're trying to do is impossible. It's simply not something you can fight. I can't really explain it any more clearly,” I said.

It wasn't hard to guess he was thinking he'd be able to resist, no doubt due to the power of his love. He smirked at us. “ _Si_. Okay. I'll take your geas. You'll let me go then?”

“We'll even pay your passage,” I said.

“On a proper Antivan coach?” He had a slightly constipated expression on his face. I think it was his sly look.

“As Antivan as you want.”

He made an airy _go ahead_ gesture. “Well, let's do it then. I'm weary of this room and this dreary country anyway.”

We cast the spell and Enzo accepted the geas. He stared at us. “I don't feel any different. I thought I wasn't to be in Tevinter.”

“That part will engage once you've left,” Dorian explained. “We did take that into account. But if you try to double back to this estate rather than take your coach to Antiva, you'll feel it very quickly.”

I'm sure he didn't believe us, but he went along with it. We accompanied him to his campsite to fetch his things and charged one of the servants with seeing to it that Enzo was put on the coach of his choice as long as it was going straight to Antiva. We even waved goodbye as the coach pulled away from the house (he didn't wave back).

“You know he doesn't believe us,” Dorian said.

“He'll find out,” I said. I may have been smirking just a bit.


	119. Documents and Dispositions

As my parents' visit was drawing to a close, things got more frantic rather than winding down in a stately manner. 

Danae was in an increasing state of panic about the situation with August. Dorian and I stayed out of that aside from offering moral support and aid in whatever they decided. When he wasn't working, August became a semi-permanent house guest, and Dorian and I actually got hours at a time to spend by ourselves as they all went round and round about it.

While I was on Danae and August's side, I didn't offer any opinions after my initial endorsement. It was none of my business — I'd given up any say in family matters long ago and my move to Tevinter had sealed that door shut forever. I was just as happy to remain uninvolved.

The drama with my sister was useful in distracting them all from some of the other goings-on in our household. One day, nearly a week after we'd vanquished Drusus Pavus, we were in the study. Dorian was looking over intelligence reports he'd gotten from a few of his Lucerni and reading out the interesting bits to me. I was writing a blistering response to a Chantry accountant who, as we'd predicted, had sent me a letter saying according to their calculations they had overpaid me by four silvers and would I remit this to them immediately.

Lucien entered with a now-familiar envelope in hand. He'd fully recovered from his ordeal and thawed toward me considerably, though he often looked at me with an air of faint embarrassment. Neither one of us had enjoyed our _au naturel_ stint together, but he was far more discomfited by it. The first few days he could barely look me in the eyes. I understood, but didn't think he'd appreciate a conversation about it.

“I was wondering when we'd get another one of these,” Dorian said, casting the small spell that would crack the seal.

“I don't see how we have time to do another 'errand' for him. The Magisterium'll be back in session soon and you'll have to be back in Minrathous,” I said.

“I know, but Radonis undoubtedly has something slithering through that serpentine mind of his.”

“After this summer Minrathous is going to feel like a holiday.”

His eyes widened as he looked up at me. “I wouldn't speak so quickly, amatus.”

I put my letter aside and joined him at his desk. “What is it?”

“Well firstly,” he pulled a small packet of documents out of the envelope and gave them a once-over, “he kept his word. These are your citizenship papers. Congratulations — you're a Vint.”

“Provisional,” I said as I took the documents.

“Have a look. I see nothing provisional about them.”

He was right. They granted me full citizenship as a Laetan. I said, “Huh.” Somehow that didn't seem adequate, but I wasn't sure what to make of it. He hadn't done it because he was fond of me — I'd never met the man.

Dorian was still going through the contents of the envelope. “Aha. And the other shoe drops. Or perhaps that should be the other anvil.” He handed me the next piece of paper.

I read it through. “He wants to meet with me when we get back to Minrathous? Fuck me. That's probably not good.”

He smiled bemusedly. “Putting aside the fact that there are people who would give their eye teeth for an audience with Radonis — or at least the eye teeth of as many slaves as it takes — that is…an interesting and not entirely unexpected turn. Fortunately we have some time to prepare.”

“It'd be nice if we knew what exactly we're preparing for.”

“Something that makes the Grand Game look like amateur hour. Just remember that and you may escape only partially compromised.” 

I chuckled then met his eyes. “You know, I think I may be there already. How much farther do you think I have to go before I'm fully compromised?”

“Just remember you can choose _how_ you're compromised.” He looked thoughtful as he removed the next sheet of paper, but abruptly brightened. “Oh, look! Alectius will be by to pick up his sending crystal. I'll have another chance to critique his wardrobe. He so desperately needs a good eye; the man is just hopeless.”

I wondered if I should be worried that I wasn't more worried, then decided not to worry about it.

=#=

While I was fine with staying out of any arrangements between my parents and my sister, that didn't mean I didn't have any concerns of my own. A couple of days after the letter from the Archon arrived, I pulled my father aside. “Do you have a moment?”

“I may even have two,” he quipped. “Something you want?”

“Let's go for a walk, shall we?”

We went out to the gardens, Swivet trotting along with us. Ferox the cat joined us for a time, then got distracted by something to chase.

Father said, “So,” and left it for me to fill in the blank.

“I just haven't had a chance to talk to you alone,” I said. “I suppose I'm wondering, especially after everything that's happened. You were so dead set against coming up here…”

He made a noise of agreement. “We'll get to that. First there are some things I should say to you. Seeing as this is the first time I've _really_ met you.”

“I wasn't faking everything when I visited last, you know,” I objected.

“No, but you were presenting the aspects of yourself you thought we'd approve of. Nothing to be put out about — we all do it.”

I made a skeptical noise. “And?”

“I'm impressed. You're a good man, Kai. Hopefully we had something to do with that, but regardless, I'm proud to call you my son.”

It was what I'd always hoped I'd hear, but now that he'd said it I felt self-conscious and tongue-tied. I said, “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He made another agreeable noise. 

I gave him a crooked smile. “And all it took was one homicidal creature made of rogue magic and the memories of an ancient monster to bring us closer together.”

He laughed. “From what I understand, that's nearly normal for you.”

“There's some truth to that,” I said wryly. “Remind me to tell you how Dorian and I met.”

“He's a good man too,” Father volunteered. “Not what I imagined for you when you were a boy, but best laid plans and all that.”

“ _Thank_ you,” I said, surprised he'd just come out and say he approved. “So you won't be calling him _that Vint_ anymore?”

He gave me a half-smile. “Don't get me wrong. I am not happy about this move to Tevinter, and I still have grave reservations about it. I admit I can understand your turning your back on the south. Even with the changes of the last few years, from your perspective it was a good move. I just hope it doesn't come back to bite you.”

I did not mount any kind of defensive retort to that. For one thing, he had a point. Those papers from the Archon were worrisome. I hoped I wasn't getting in over my head, but could see no way around the course I was on.

Father continued, “That being said, I do like Dorian and I can see you're good for each other. He likes playing the fool around others, doesn't he?”

“I wouldn't say fool,” I said. “More…typical self-absorbed noble twat, but wittier?”

“So, intelligent, but still a fool.”

“That's one way of putting it. But yes, it's a persona. He's good at it, and because of that people tend to underestimate him.”

“So what's yours?” He looked at me shrewdly.

“Me? I'm an open book.”

He snorted.

I smiled. “I'm not pretty enough to go Dorian's route. My thing is relentless decency, or so I've been told. I sometimes add alarmingly blunt honesty to the mix.”

He sucked in his cheeks then gave me a sideways glance. “And will that tactic work here in Tevinter, do you think?”

I grinned. “I've no guarantees, of course, but I rather think it will. It has so far. With all their endless machinations, it seems to be one nobody's thought to try.”

He gave a small bark of laughter. “That I believe. Just…be careful, Kai. These people might be treating you well, but don't go thinking they're your friends.”

“I know,” I assured him. “I trust exactly two Magisters, and only one of them implicitly.”

“It's not just the magisters you need to worry about.”

"I know that too, but thank you for caring. And thank you for coming up here.”

“I’d been told so often I should broaden my horizons, I did it in self-defence.” He looked at me sharply. “I hope you’re aware if you use decency and honesty all the time, they’ll come to expect it.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry, Father. I can lie with the best of them. I’m also adept at veiled threats, double and triple meanings, and insulting people without them realizing they’ve been insulted, among other things.”

“Then I am reassured. Not that I didn’t suspect as much, given you beat the Orlesians at their own Game.”

I made an agreeable noise then said in a tone of mere curiosity, “Do you still hate Tevinter?"

“I can like facets of it without liking the Empire as a whole and what it represents.”

I nodded, deciding that was progress enough given he'd started out calling me a traitor and refusing to set foot in Tevinter. 

“Will Danae be going back with you?”

“That's the plan.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And August?”

“We'll see.”

“Hasmal or Ostwick?”

“Definitely Hasmal. Ostwick society will never accept a Tevinter commoner no matter how eccentric they think we are.”

“He seems to be a good man. Smart, level-headed, reasonably good-looking. Might be useful to bring some new blood into the line.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Uh huh. It's clear what side of the coin you come down on.”

“Just thinking of the bloodline,” I said innocently.

“Hah. Even if we go through with this mad scheme you lot have come up with, she needs to come home now.”

“She's agreed to it?”

“If we don't get her into position to take over as Bann soon, there will be others that will be all too happy to fill the void. She knows that, and she's no more eager for another branch of the family to jump in than we are.”

“Nor am I, despite my having no real say in any of it. Just imagine if your sisters got their way.”

We turned around, heading back to the house. The sun was just beginning to sink toward the horizon. It had started doing that earlier the last few days. Swivet sometimes paced us and then would wander off to explore, returning with a squeak or informative trill to remind us he was there. There was a slight breeze blowing, bringing with it the scent of flowers and green things. A few birds were carrying on a spirited discussion – or perhaps argument – in the distance. 

The trees and flowers and bushes lining the pathway we walked were all lush and beautiful, and I realized with an unexpected pang that the man responsible for overseeing all that beauty was lying savaged and dead far below us in the remains of the Black House. I hoped that wasn't a fitting metaphor for Tevinter as a whole, especially since, as Dorian teased, I was now officially a Vint.

“Something bothering you?” Father asked.

I hadn't realized I looked bothered. I told him I was thinking about Rogerian, the head gardener who liked to joke his last name had destined him for his job.

He grunted. “Glad I could help put that thing down. I must say, I enjoyed that in a strange way, but I can't imagine how you could stand it day in and day out.”

“You get used to it. As you saw yourself, the actual bits where you're fighting bad guys and monsters doesn't last all that long. You spend more time fighting boredom and fatigue and wishing there was a shower nearby. Besides, we have the power and ability to deal with things like Drusus. The average person doesn't, so if we don't do something about them…”

“Even though half the time they're scared spitless of you as well?”

“Down south I put most of the blame for that on the Chantry. Up here…well, some of my fellow mages are pretty horrible people. And generally speaking, people fear what they can't understand.”

“Do many mages feel that way?”

“Which way?”

“That sense of social responsibility? That those of you with the power and ability, as you say, should deal with threats like that creature?”

I rubbed my hand across my head. “I don’t really know. Some do. I’m afraid many don’t. Hopefully there are enough that do to keep those more exotic threats in check.” 

He was silent for a few more minutes. The elegant lines of the house were becoming visible through gaps in the trees. 

He said, “Down in that hall…when we walked in and saw you, Dorian said _please, not again_. I thought we were going to lose you. He knew we weren't by the time we got you into the tunnels. How many times do things like that have to happen for someone's reaction to be _please, not again_?”

“Too fucking many,” I said. “In the time we've been together—” _venhedis_ , I actually had to pause and count “—five? One of them he didn't know about until after because I was saving his life at the time.”

“You know, you might want to keep in mind you're not getting any younger.”

“It's not like I try to get injured,” I protested. “I'd be delighted if that never happens again. And I'm very aware I'm not getting any younger. If you take away the time it took to train me properly, I still got fourteen years stolen from me. I didn't even get out of the circle until I was over thirty. The opportunity to do this sort of mad, adventurous shite while I was still young was stolen from me too.”

“You don't think you were better prepared for everything because you were a bit older?”

“That's beside the point. Probably. Because I managed to at least get those couple of years in Ostwick to figure out how to live in the real world. But that's still fourteen years rotting in a fucking cage. _Venhedis_ , Dorian's five years younger than me but he had _years_ more life experience when we met.”

“Didn't mean to open up a can of worms,” Father said mildly.

“Sorry. I'm afraid it still doesn't take much to set me off when it comes to that subject.”

“Quite all right.” 

He stopped as we reached the entrance to the garden, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked me up and down, making me feel vaguely self-conscious.

“I want you to know I'm glad I came up here,” he said. “It's been the most unusual holiday I've had, but also the most rewarding. I will, of course, deny having ever gone to Tevinter once we get home.”

I smiled. “One does have certain expectations to meet as Bann. Will you visit again?”

“If we have the time, I wouldn't be averse to it. You don't have to trot out another monster for me to help slay.”

“Even though you were having the time of your life?”

He quirked a smile. “I think I could live with that level of adventure being a once-in-a-lifetime experience. The sheer novelty of talking with you when you're not practically vibrating with tension is adventure enough.”

“Oh, come now. I wasn't _that_ bad, was I?”

He snorted.

“We should get back before the others start looking for us.” We started walking again. “Not to mention I could use a drink.”

“I'm rather parched myself,” Father agreed.

Swivet, seeing we were heading back to the house, dashed ahead of us in his mad determination to always be first.

=#=

After more debates, some of them rather shouty, the question of August was settled. Though they had serious reservations, our parents agreed to go along with our scheme to remake the undertaker into a slightly exotic noble from Hasmal. I think after the damage that had been done to our family over the years, they were loath to cause another rift. They'd already bucked tradition in so many ways, I suspect they were enjoying it a little. Giving in to the outlandish thought that their daughter should be able to choose her own husband wasn't that much of a stretch.

Of course, setting up August's identity and then getting him to Ostwick and married was going to be a slow process. He wouldn't be leaving with my family; he had too many things to do in Qarinus first. I expected we'd be getting status reports for at least a few years.

After some prodding from Dorian and me, they agreed to use the eluvians to cut days off their travel time. We'd accompany them, of course. I wasn't about to suggest they fight the poisonous, spidery creatures that call the outer skin of the elven network home. We'd do another escort trip for August when the time came.

I suppose I should mention, too, that Mother got her way. Two nights before they left, they threw a birthday celebration for me. There were presents and fancy desserts and fancier drinks. They even got Maevaris and August to come. It was nice, if a little disconcerting. I really hadn't given much thought to there being any significance in turning forty until everyone else started making a big deal out of it. 

I think of everyone at the party, the animals had the best time. Swivet was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, what with all the people and food and decorations. Ferox, on the other hand, wasn't too impressed until I opened a gift that apparently came in just the right box, because from the moment I set it on the floor he claimed it as his own and spent most of the night either in or around it.

When we finally turned in that night, I deposited my loot in the outer room and walked into the bedroom as I pulled my overshirt off. Dorian was waiting for me with a faint smile on his face.

“Have fun tonight?” he asked.

I tossed my shirt on the closest chair. “Yes, I suppose. I'm not actually forty yet, you know.”

“It never seemed to worry you before.”

I sat down to unlace my boots. “It didn't. It's all of _them_ making a thing out of it. Do you know I got four bookmarks tonight?”

He laughed. “They don't know what to get you. Look what I go through every holiday that demands gifts.”

“Yes, but at least some of the death-related items are clever. I have no use for multiple bookmarks. Especially big floppy cloth ones with tassels.”

“You didn't do all that badly. The black shirts and the bow strings were practical. So was the razor, and Danae even found those books you wanted. I suppose we could always remove the tassel from your big, floppy bookmark and affix it elsewhere.”

“You are looking entirely too amused by that thought.”

“Nonsense. I am simply filled with celebratory affection for you and it shows in my benign smile. It's your suspicious mind that is seeing amusement.”

I set my boots aside and pulled off my trousers, which went on top of my shirt, then threw myself on the bed. I didn't feel like taking off the arm yet. “Is it terrible of me that I'm a little bit glad they're going to be leaving soon?”

“Of course not. Think about it, amatus. This whole summer we've barely gotten more than a few days here and there where there wasn't something or someone that had to be attended to. Here, take off your shirt and lie on your stomach.”

I did as he said. He straddled me and started massaging my back. 

“Mnh. You can do that as long as you like. How long will we have before we have to get ready to go back to Minrathous?”

“At least a fortnight of unfettered freedom should be ours. I suggest we take advantage of it. We may even want to run away so no one can require our services.”

“Sounds good. You can take me to an exotic resort or some exclusive Altus retreat. I haven't gotten to go anywhere _fun_ with you for ages.”

He chuckled. “Exclusive Altus retreats don't necessarily qualify as _fun_.”

“Fine, somewhere tawdry and scandalous then. I'm easy.” He worked the muscles in my shoulders and I groaned appreciatively.

“Kai…”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we should at least alert a few people to the fact that there's another orb in play? Or at least that the Sacer Saeculum are active again?” I could hear how carefully he was wording that.

“Definitely on the Sacer Saeculum,” I said. “I don't know much about them, but none of it sounds good.”

“And the other?”

I mentally tested my boundaries. “Make it more vague. We know there are other orbs, and that they're supposed to do different things. There may be a few active ones out there even now.”

He sighed and moved to my neck. “Very well. I'm primarily thinking of Mae and Marius, maybe a few more Lucerni. The thing could conceivably be used against us, you know.”

I bit back a yawn and changed the subject. “What do you want to do about the Black House? You don't want to wall it back up, do you?”

“Perish the thought.” He slid off me and stretched out next to me, propping his head on his hand. He knows I can't lie comfortably on my stomach for long periods of time — that old injury to my left side again — and works around it. “I want to get that library up to our library then explore the rest of it.”

“Good. That's exactly what I was thinking. Are we sailing to Minrathous?”

Dorian grimaced. “Ugh. I suppose in the interests of saving time, we must. Just make sure there's plenty of that elixir Mikal gave us.”

“You can bathe in it if you like, not that that would do you any good.”

“Oh, very funny. You know, I haven't given you my birthday present yet.”

I smiled lazily. “It's not my birthday.”

“Yes, but everyone is pretending it is.”

“Then you can give me a pretend present.”

“You _could_ stop being a brat about it. Otherwise I mayn't even bestow that on you.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “A brat? Is that what you think I'm being?”

“You're getting perilously close.”

“Then I apologize. Do what you will; I'll stop being a brat.”

“Most wise of you. Now lie back and let's get these smallclothes off, shall we?”

He gave me my pretend-birthday present, and I have to say it was by far the best one I received that night.


	120. Leave-Taking

It felt slightly surreal watching my sister carry her luggage out to the foyer the day they were leaving. She'd been visiting long enough that she was starting to feel like a permanent member of the household. I had to admit, in many ways I was going to miss her. Dorian agreed when I mentioned it to him. 

Servants gathered everything together (including overnight bags for Dorian and me) and took them to the eluvian room.

August had come out to say goodbye, so he and Lucien watched as we led our horses through the big mirror. Servants followed with our gear and my family's luggage, which they secured on two pack animals. There was no way to fit a coach through, so everyone was on horseback. I don't think anyone minded.

My family went from being awed at the bizarre world we were travelling through to blasé fairly quickly, given its relentless, nearly featureless greyness (unless you're an elf, of course). There was a bit of excitement when a couple of the huge, twelve-legged spider-things that infest the place stupidly decided to attack. Dorian and I turned them into twitching paste before they could get anywhere near our party.

Roughly ten hours later we crossed through the other eluvian into my house in Hasmal. All the horses made it quite a production, but the beasts were used to it. We got them out of the house and up to the stables without any difficulties. 

Luckily, the house was empty as Cam and Fadik had already moved into their office/flat. We made a pilgrimage there during our visit to have a look at their new digs and present a happily shocked Fadik with her cut of Kaeso’s payment.

We ended up spending a couple of days in Hasmal as our friends all wanted to meet my parents. Sera in particular seemed to find the whole idea fascinating, as though she'd assumed I spawned fully grown from some sort of mage-breeding facility.

As I'd expected, my father and Mikal got on like a house on fire and I heard him talking business with Ademar as well. I think Sera and Dagna would have adopted my mother if they could. Only Danae seemed a little distant, but it could be that she was just missing August.

We said our final goodbyes to my family, and as a surprise I presented them with a sending crystal so we wouldn't have to piss about writing letters and hoping brigands or natural disasters didn't destroy them en route. (Dorian swore the real reason I did it was because when it comes to letters home, my writing ability plummets to that of a sulky twelve-year-old. There may be some truth to that.)

Mikal assured me and my family that my house would be ready for August whenever he chose to come down.

Finally Dorian and I led our collective of horses back home. We walked in the front door, went all the way through the house to the back patio, and didn't encounter one house guest. We got an enthusiastic greeting from Swivet and a somewhat more dignified one from Ferox as we dropped into our chairs. A servant brought drinks and disappeared back into the depths of the house. We looked out over the grounds, which the setting sun was painting in shades of red and orange.

“I keep expecting something to interrupt this,” I said.

“I'm sure something is plotting ways as we speak,” Dorian said lightly. “But we shan't let them.”

As if conjured by those shadowy someones, Lucien glided onto the patio. “Welcome back,” he said as he brandished a small stack of mail. “These came while you were gone.”

“Put them on the desk in the study, would you? We're officially not back yet,” Dorian said. 

“As you will.” Lucien smiled narrowly. “How long should we expect you to be absent?”

“A fortnight. Perhaps even a few extra days. We'll be back in plenty of time to prepare for the trip to Minrathous.”

“Very good. I shall inform the staff. If you might, though, we do have a few new members that have yet to put faces to the names of their new employers.”

“Of course. We'll be present for them tomorrow. Thank you, Lucien.”

The major-domo gave us both a nod and returned to the house, letters still in hand.

“You're not even curious what's in them?” I asked.

“They'll either be the usual drivel or it will be someone wanting you, me or both of us to _do_ something. I'm not that curious.”

He was right. Our return to Minrathous was screaming up on us with its attendant political intrigue and social games. 

I had a meeting with the Archon to look forward to. 

There was an orb out there in the hands of some very bad people and for some reason, Mythal wanted it there. 

There were always Qunari plots happening somewhere in Tevinter, and a group of former Venatori could even now be continuing their work on perfect possession under the auspices of the Archon, thanks to us. 

When we were able to get back to Qarinus, we had the Black House to excavate. I thought briefly about the things down in the bottom of those ancient wells, and wondered if it was going to be the simple, straightforward undertaking we were envisioning.

I also didn't know when Mythal might want me to do something or what that might be. And because we'd talked in the Fade, there were entities that might now be aware of me as her agent. 

Those were just the things I could think of off the top of my head.

I took a drink and smiled at Dorian. “Neither am I.”


	121. A Modest Proposal

I'd gone into Qarinus city with Mae for the day. Dorian had begged off, as he had things he needed to arrange with people in Minrathous and couldn't put it off any longer. We were due to set sail in just a few days, so the house was in disarray as we packed our things. We had a small fleet of servants preparing the Eluvian for transport. Swivet had taken to following us around worriedly, and even Ferox was hovering nearby, sensing that something was in the works.

We'd gone shopping for clothing and items Mae insisted I was going to need, now that I was a full-fledged member of Tevinter society, and over lunch she'd briefed me in detail on things I needed to know about the pit of vipers disguised as her and Dorian's fellow magisters, given that they were likely to acknowledge me as more than a vaguely interesting visitor. Believe me, there was a lot of detail I’d been blissfully able to ignore the previous year.

We got back in the evening, twilight painting the sky in shades of violet and deep blue. The days were getting shorter, and though Tevinter could never be said to get truly cold, there was a slight chill to the air that hadn't been there even a few weeks ago.

As servants gathered my purchases to transport into the house, Mae gave me a hug goodbye and continued on to her own estate. She'd be sailing with us this time, and declared the amount of packing and arrangements she had to do to close up the estate for the remainder of the year had doubled when she wasn't looking.

Before I could enter the house, an elven servant (his name was Jaelen) approached me.

“Dominus Kai? Dominus Dorian asked that you meet him on the north patio.”

I thanked him and entered the house. The north patio was the small one where he'd surprised me with our anniversary dinner, and we'd rarely used it since. I stopped long enough to use the facilities and wash up then headed to meet him.

The lights we'd made a permanent fixture on the little patio were glowing a soft blue. Dorian was seated at the round table, drinking a glass of wine. As I took the seat by his, a servant emerged from the house, handed me a beer and left just as quickly.

“Got tired of the big patio?” I asked.

“This is more intimate,” he said with a faint smile. “And you see those flowers there? The bell-shaped purple ones? They only bloom for a few weeks right at this time of year. Listen once it gets full dark. They sing.”

“Naturally?” I'd never heard of such a thing.

“An Altus whose passion was horticulture developed them many years ago. They only grow in this climate, so it's something you'd never see down south. Has Mae got you prepared and provisioned now?”

“I believe so. She said you can fill in any gaps. What about you? Are you done for the day?”

He nodded. “Thankfully. I despise bureaucratic minutiae, so of course Minrathous is determined to bury me in it.”

“Poor thing,” I said lazily. “And this is only the beginning.”

“It is, isn't it?” 

He sounded so thoughtful I looked closely at him. “Something on your mind?”

“Yes, actually.”

“What is it?”

He fiddled with the ends of his moustache. “It's about us.”

“What about us?” I clamped down on an utterly unreasonable moment of panic that it was going to be something awful.

“Have you noticed how many people seem to _assume_ we're married?”

Of all the things he might have said, I wasn't expecting that. “Um…no?”

“Well they have. Your sister accused us of it. At least three people I talked to today alone did. The Archon said something to that effect. Even _Livia_ thought we were married.”

I smiled at him bemusedly. “Okay, so what's your point? Does it bother you?”

He was silent for a moment. “No. It made me think. Everything that's happened this past few months has made me think.”

“And what have all these thoughts led you to conclude?”

He sipped his wine. “That there's really no reason not to, particularly since everyone seems to think we already are. That is, if you'd like. We could.”

I grinned. “Why, Dorian Pavus. Are you offering to make an honest man of me?”

“I've nearly lost you often enough, I thought it might be an idea to…solidify things. Again, if you'd like.”

He looked at me with an expression that seemed an equal mix of hope and dread.

As if on cue, the last of the light faded from the sky and, just as Dorian said, the pretty purple flowers began to sing a soft, beautiful, slightly eerie melody. The eeriness somehow made it lovelier.

I nodded and smiled slowly. “Yes, I'd like. I'd like that very much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, feedback is welcomed.  
> Kai and Dorian's adventures are far from over - the next novel in the series is in the works.


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